The Lost Girls
by Viridis Lupus
Summary: Kidnappings involving several women have occured in the past six months with nobody being brought to justice, despite each body turning up at the morgue. When Nikki becomes the next victim, will Harry and Leo be able to find her before its too late? H/N
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note - Hey there, this is my first ever Silent Witness story so bear with me. I hope you enjoy. **

"….anyway, the coroner's report came through and – why are there _no _vegetables in the entirety of your fridge?" Nikki said, abruptly, as she poked around in the refrigerator, allowing the fluorescent light to stream into the room and silhouette her slender form.

"I think the bigger question," Harry replied, glibly, strolling over and pulling his nosy colleague out and closing the door with a loud click, "Is why you are in my fridge in the first place?"

Nikki grinned at him and leant casually back on one of the black granite counters. "I was merely interested in the contents of a bachelor's fridge and wanted to do a little research." She paused, still smiling. "It was as I expected: several wine bottles, a mouldy Camembert and ten ready meals. The evidence is certainly conclusive: you can't cook to save your life."

"Which is exactly the reason that we're getting an Indian," Harry retorted, picking up his glass of wine, "Now, I don't want you taking complete control of my fridge as well as my desk so shall we drift towards the sitting room? Come on, _shift_." He caught pushed Nikki's shoulder, playfully, directing her towards the other room.

The blonde woman stumbled as she moved and felt her elbow being caught, deftly, by Harry. "Perhaps," she laughed, "We should, before I do too much damage to myself."

"I concur." Harry's eyes sparkled.

Still chuckling, the pair wandered into Harry's spacious sitting room and threw themselves down on the comfy leather sofas, taking a moment to admire the evening view from the massive glass windows. Nikki felt herself sink into the cushions and let out a little sigh of bliss as she closed her eyes. Her friend's apartment was so comfortable and stylish and _warm_. The heating in her own home had broken over a week ago and she was still padding around in her thick woollen socks, hand-knitted scarf and massive fluffy jumper. Often, she felt like an Eskimo. That's why she was very pleased to accept the offer of a take away with her colleague on the grounds that it would be at his place and not hers.

_Thwack_.

A pillow hit her full in the face and she gasped in surprise, her eyes springing open again. In her lap, having fallen down, was a russet cushion, embroidered with gold thread.

"Harry!" she admonished, glaring at her companion.

"You looked too happy," he explained, grinning, and almost sloshing a great deal of crimson wine from his glass onto the cream carpet. He caught it just in time.

"In all honesty," Nikki said, having observed the mishap, "I'm quite surprised you actually had the coordination to throw it so accurately."

"Me too," Harry agreed, with a laugh.

"It doesn't mean I've forgiven you though. I'd watch out for retribution," Nikki warned, "It could come at any moment."

Her friend grinned at her. "I'm looking forward to it."

However, it seemed Nikki wasn't too inclined to exact her revenge just yet so they leant back and sat in companionable silence, both lost in their own world of thought whilst enjoying one another's presence. This was why Harry liked spending time with Nikki, she never pushed a conversation when it wasn't needed. It was a sign of a good friendship to be able to sit comfortably together and not _need _to talk about anything. Now, was a time for relaxing. Harry had had so many female friends and girlfriends that chattered for hours and never gave him a moment's peace. Being in the same line of work as him, Nikki had a mutual understanding of the need for quiet.

Suddenly, he was aware of a pair of eyes boring into him and he glanced over at his colleague to see her scrutinising him with those insanely dark brown orbs.

"What?" he asked, self-consciously, "Do I have a wine moustache or something?" He brushed his lips quickly and hoped that he hadn't embarrassed himself too much.

Nikki looked thoughtful for a moment and then she queried, curiously, "Why did you grow your hair, Harry?"

"Because I felt the need for a change," the man shrugged, running a pale hand through his brown, floppy locks. "Don't you think I look more mature?" he added, striking a model-like pose and smirking.

Nikki chuckled. "I don't think _anything _could make you seem more mature, Harry Cunningham, you're stuck in eternal boyhood. A real life Peter Pan."

"Thanks a lot," he said, sarcastically.

A pause. "I prefer it shorter."

"Why?" Harry questioned, frowning.

"That was the Harry I first met," Nikki replied, shrugging her slender shoulders slightly, "And I always thought it looked good on you. You pull off boyish charm brilliantly." She waved at his hair and purple shirt. "But this look, it's too….rock band. Actually, scrap that…that was your last haircut. Now you just look a bit like a girl."

"Even with my manly jaw?" Harry asked, angling his head to the left to give her the full view.

"Yes," Nikki giggled.

"I see that wine has loosened your tongue. I never realised you thought about my hairstyles so much. If I had then I would definitely have gone punk. How do you think a pink Mohican would suit me?"

"Down to the ground," his friend snorted. "Especially if you brought back your infamous yellow scrubs."

Harry made a face. "I'll have you know they were _limited _edition."

"For good reason!"

Suddenly a loud buzzing filled the apartment and both pathologists jumped at the noise. For a second, in his alcohol induced state, Harry wondered whether a massive fly had invaded his home but then he realised it was the doorbell. The take away must have arrived. Climbing slowly to his feet and placing his glass on a side table, Harry headed towards the door. Nikki watched him go noting, with amusement, his slanting gait. He really had had too much wine. Hell, _she'd _had too much wine.

"Hullo." Harry leant on the doorframe and smiled at the young Asian man who stood in the hallway, clutching at a bag of curries. His face was pimply and his eyes blinked repeatedly, so much so that they were continuously watering. "Do you have my meal?"

"Y-yes, sir," the adolescent stuttered, "Here."

"But I ordered a Chinese," Harry stated, quite seriously.

"W-what?" Frankly, the boy looked terrified; his free hand twisted erratically by his side.

"A Chinese. Two number fives, a ten and an eighteen," Harry continued, doggedly, a smile twitching his lips.

"But…I," the delivery man was floundering, clearly distressed, "There must have been a mistake."

"For _god's _sake, Harry, stop teasing the poor boy!" Nikki reprimanded. She had levered herself off the sofa and was now standing beside her friend. Smiling kindly at the teenager, who was now mumbling frantically in Punjabi and staring at his feet as if the ground would swallow him up, she held out her hands. "Sorry, ignore this idiot, we have ordered an Indian under the name Cunningham?"

"Yes, that is this," the boy's tone sounded relieved and he looked up only to blanch at the sight of Nikki. His whole body seemed to stiffen as he stared at her with wide brown eyes.

"Are you all right?" she asked, concerned.

At first the boy didn't reply and then he leapt into action. "I am fine. Fine. I must go!"

He practically lobbed the warm plastic bag of food at her and then charged off down the corridor as if his life depended on it. Nikki stared after him, astounded, holding the take away in her hands.

"Wait!" she shouted, hurrying out of Harry's apartment, "We haven't paid you."

However, by the time she'd made it to the end of the corridor, the delivery boy was long gone and Nikki was left alone in the deserted passageway. Frowning thoughtfully, she turned back and walked towards the apartment door. That was so strange. Surely the boy's job depended on getting paid? He couldn't have been so scared by Harry that he forgot to get the money. Then again, Harry _could _be rather intimidating. Perhaps, it was his first day and he wasn't used to drunken fools.

Feeling rather guilty, Nikki wandered back into the apartment and closed the door behind her with a resounding _thud_. Harry was back in the kitchen and by the sounds of his clattering, he was sorting out plates and cutlery.

"Did you pay him?" the man called.

"No," Nikki said, coming into the room, "He'd gone and I couldn't catch him."

"Wow, a free meal. It must be our lucky night," Harry grinned.

"You scared him," Nikki felt the need to point out.

Her colleague scoffed. "Hardly, Nikki, he was just in a hurry and he probably forgot about payment. Maybe he had another job immediately after ours and wanted to get away. I expect he'll come back later and ask for the money. We'll pay him then."

"Why did you tease him like that, though?"

"Aw," Harry said, seeing her face, "It was _slightly _funny, you have to admit. Besides, unfortunately, when I'm _rather_ pissed I seem to find everything funny."

"No more wine for you then," Nikki retorted, catching the bottle from his hand. "If you have anymore then you'll go into work drunk tomorrow morning and you _know _that Leo won't be happy."

"Its only…" the pathologist consulted his watch, "Half nine. It will be out of my system by tomorrow."

"Harry, stop behaving like a drunkard and have some food."

Offering him a particularly stern expression, Nikki slipped the aluminium wrapped packages out of the carrier bag and placed them on the table. She carefully consulted the labels so she would know what was in them and then peeled back the lids. A beautiful aroma of spices and herbs filled the kitchen and she smiled.

"Mmm…I'm famished," she declared and plonked herself down on a chair. Harry followed suit and soon they were lost in good food and amiable conversation; the incident with the delivery boy completely forgotten.

* * *

Pecking Nikki gently on her soft cheek, Harry inhaled her sweet perfume mixed with a whiff of spicy curries and smiled, pulling back. Her brown eyes met his and they twinkled like the stars that were no doubt studding the sky outside.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening, Harry," she said, sincerely. "I don't think I'm really looking forward to going back to my cold, dark flat."

"Didn't you say that a repairman would be round to fix your heating tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yes," Nikki sighed, "But that's not now is it? If I don't come in tomorrow it's probably because I've died from hypothermia in my sleep so don't worry, okay? I went peacefully."

Harry laughed and hugged her one last time before handing her the handbag which she'd left on the side. It amused him that he'd carried Nikki's bag more times than he could count. He should really stop because it couldn't be doing much for his reputation or his masculinity. This particular one was made of greenish-blue leather that went with her winter scarf – the scarf that was wrapped tightly round her neck to keep out the chill that she would be stepping into once she went outside.

"Try not to get frostbite," he smirked, "See you tomorrow."

"I will."

Nikki left the apartment and decided to take the winding staircase in order to burn off some of the rich food that she'd consumed that night. However, as she descended, she decided that perhaps that wasn't such a good idea because of her recent alcohol consumption. It made her wobbly in her high heeled boots. She had to grab at the rail several times when she came perilously close to plummeting head first down the stairs. Next time, she would definitely take the lift.

Whilst she had been in the apartment, she had ordered a taxi because neither Harry nor herself were in a fit state to drive. They had received a phone call just a few minutes ago to confirm that the cab had arrived so she hoped that she wouldn't have to be out in the cold for too long.

Pushing open the front door of the block of apartments, Nikki tottered into the street and scanned the road for any sign of her transport. She had expected to see the headlights of a waiting taxi but, as it was, the street was completely almost empty and quiet. That was odd. A couple of decrepit streetlamps were casting pitiful pools of orange onto the pavement but other than that there were no lights anywhere. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, Nikki braced herself for her chilly wait.

As she stood there, trying to ignore the biting wind that had picked up, she wondered whether she should give up and go back into Harry's. Maybe she could ask him whether she could stay the night because she really didn't like the prospect of returning to her deserted home. That way she didn't have to abandon her car and she could head home, clear-headed, in the morning. Her exposed cheeks were stinging and her blond curls were being tossed around by the swirling air.

It was just as she was about to give up that a sharp glint of light caught her eye and she frowned. Squinting, she could just about make out a dark shape a little further down the road. Perhaps that was the taxi; maybe she had just missed it. Hurrying down the pavement, hearing her boots clacking on the tarmac, she drew closer and realised the light which she had seen had been caused by the shiny wing mirror of the black cab. It had reflected the moonlight. Glancing up into the sky, she smiled at the prettiness of the suspended white orb.

She could see someone sitting in the driving seat so she knocked on the window. Strangely, she received no indicator that he'd heard her. She tried again. Still no reaction. Frowning, Nikki tried the door handle and found it was unlocked. Gingerly, she pulled it open and peered inside. It was then she realised why the driver had no replied.

He was dead.

There was a single bullet wound fired straight through the centre of his forehead. Blood had spilled from the wound, down his face, and onto his clothes, pooling in his lap. The fact that it hadn't tried suggested it was reasonably fresh. Nikki felt her heartbeat increase, uneasily.

That's when she heard the footsteps behind her.

With a gasp, she whirled around and just had time to glimpse a muscular torso before she was brutally knocked out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note - Thank you for the wonderful response. Wasn't Thursday's episode so intense that you wanted to scream? I swore when Sage got shot in the head. Scared me so much. Speaking of swearing, this chapter is more mature than the last.**

Harry cursed, colourfully, as he pulled out of the apartment block car park because, as he glanced right, he saw that there was a jam blocking the road and that there was no way through. That was the path he usually went to work by but he couldn't afford to wait because he was already horrifically late. Leo would probably castrate him. He'd have to go the long way round and drive like a madman.

Clenched in-between his teeth was a buttered piece of toast – it was all he could grab for breakfast. He hadn't been particularly hungry because of the massive hangover he'd acquired from last night's indulgences but he'd thought it was a good idea. Nikki was right; he was going to be struggling with work this morning. If the smell of hot butter was already roiling his stomach, he really didn't like to think of what the stench of a corpse's insides would do to him. Pathologists were meant to have stomachs of iron but his felt like it was made of jelly right now.

Growling into the emptiness of his car, Harry swivelled the steering wheel left and accelerated out of the car park, hearing his tyres spin on the tarmac. In his rear-view mirror, he caught sight of a black cab sitting in the middle of the road and he guessed that was what was causing the congestion. Stupid cabbies. Still grumbling to himself, he sped down the street and turned out right at the next junction.

He was still full of unvented anger when he arrived at work twenty minutes later. Striding into the entrance hall, he glanced up at a silver clock on the wall and sighed when he saw it was half past nine. He was meant to be here half an hour ago. Hopefully, Nikki was covering for him and distracting Leo so their boss didn't notice his absence. Slamming his identity card through the slot, Harry hurried through the door, pulling his scarf from around his neck as he walked.

After a quick survey of the office, he realised that no one was there and breathed a huge sigh of relief, dumping his briefcase on his desk.

"What time do you call this?"

The voice made Harry jump and he swung round to face his boss, trying to think up an explanation for his tardiness but coming up blank.

"You're not a student anymore, Harry, you can't drink all night and roll out of the bed at whatever time you please," Leo pressed, his tone disappointed.

"Sorry, my alarm didn't go off."

"Perhaps, you should invest in a new one then," Leo replied, sharply. He was never one to accept lame excuses and Harry knew that the one he'd given was about as lame as it could get.

"Why do I feel like I'm being berated by my father?" the younger pathologist groaned, dropping his elbows onto the desk and running his hands through his dark hair.

Leo didn't even respond to that, instead he said, "Have you seen Nikki?"

"No," Harry sighed, "I thought she'd be in already."

"She's not."

"Wow, you mean I beat her?" Harry raised his eyebrows.

"There's always a first," Leo retorted, smartly.

Harry chuckled. "Is that why you were so pissed off at me? Because _neither _of us was on time?"

"Partly," the professor replied, "And the other reason is that you didn't finish the papers that you _promised _me _last_ Monday."

"Oh…god…." Harry slapped a palm to his forehead and ran it down the side of his face. He affected an apologetic expression. "I kind of….forgot. I promise I'll do it for tomorrow."

"_Tonight_, Harry," Leo corrected.

"Sure, sure, tonight."

"Right. Good." The silver haired man hit his palms on his thighs and peered around the office again. "When Nikki comes in, tell me will you? I have a case for her."

"Can't I take it?"

"You're on my black list - so no."

"But Nikki's even later than I am!" Harry protested, thinking of all the work that he could be doing on his computer but really didn't want to tackle. "That's favouritism."

"Perhaps it is," Leo shot Harry that charismatic smile of his and walked away without another word.

Harry stared after him for a moment and then groaned again, flopping headfirst onto his desk, his cheek balanced on a pile of files. Not ready to do anything yet, he closed his eyes, thinking of his warm, comfortable bed.

"Harry!" Leo's abrupt shout had the young man practically jumping out of his skin. He looked blearily over his shoulder and saw his boss with his head popped out of his office door. "Work," the man ordered, "_Now_."

"Yes, _sir_!" Harry saluted, tipping his head.

"I want those papers. Tonight!"

"Slave-driver!" the pathologist called, teasingly.

* * *

As Nikki still hadn't turned up by ten o'clock, Leo set Harry on the case. They couldn't wait too long because the police would be getting antsy. So Harry gratefully grabbed his coat and equipment and jumped in his car, heading for the crime scene which had been discovered this morning. Leo, too, had been called out on a case so they left a message with Charlie for if Nikki ever decided to come in. Harry couldn't help but feel that she'd been quite a hypocrite last night for suggesting that _he _would be the one unfit for work. Obviously, she was nursing a hangover and couldn't be bothered to come in.

The weather was still bitingly cold when Harry clambered out of his car and he drew his coat further around himself, trying to keep out unwelcome draughts. Down the road from him, he could see the crime scene, cordoned off with familiar blue and white tape. From what he had heard from the police, a woman's body had been found impaled on a railing outside a park. There was a white forensics tent over the spot where the dead woman must be, no doubt to hide her grotesque image from the prying eyes of the public.

Harry flashed his card at the police officer standing guard and slipped under the tape. He knew he had better slip on his white protective suit so he quickly whipped off his coat and donned the familiar garments of a forensic pathologist. Once this was done, he strode purposefully into the tent.

Several people were milling around: police officers, forensic photographers and two plain clothed men who he guessed were the crime scene coordinators. One of them turned towards him on his arrival and smiled.

"Well," he said, "Look what the cat dragged in, _Dr _Harry Cunningham."

"Lewis Haversham! I haven't seen you in….ages." Harry grinned back.

"Since university," the man grinned. "The good old days when we were young and carefree."

"Yes," Harry chuckled, "I would shake your hand but…" Harry held up his gloved fingers.

"Can't contaminate the crime scene can we?"

"Better not, my boss is already on my case today, I don't want to give him anymore things to pick holes in. So," the dark haired man said, looking at the corpse, "You're running this scene?"

"Yes, with the help of DS Partridge. Say hello, Joe," Lewis turned to his companion but the other man barely spared Harry a glance, let alone a greeting. "He's not much of a talker."

Harry snorted. "I can see that. So what position are you now then?"

"DI, can you believe it?"

"No," Harry replied, honestly, "Not really, considering the last time I saw you, you were trying to drink vodka through your buttocks with a bendy straw."

"Ah," Lewis grinned, "Happy times."

"Well, come on then, we better get on with this. Do you know who we have here?"

"Nancy Roberts," the DI replied, "She was soon to be Nancy Arnold according to her family."

"Unfortunate," Harry sighed.

"She's been missing for over a month."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you must have heard of the all the abductions that have been happening?"

"Of course, we tend to get them at the end of the line."

Gently, Harry touched the body of the girl. She looked to be about twenty five. Completely naked from head to toe, she was impaled on the sharp metal pole like a piece of meat on a butcher's hook. It entered at the nape of her neck and went all the way through, between her clavicles. A small amount of dried blood surrounded the foreign object.

"Well, this didn't kill her."

"What? You mean the railing?"

"Yes, there isn't enough blood around the wound. She must have lost the majority beforehand from these wounds here." Harry gestured to the slashes across the breasts and groin. "Therefore, she didn't have enough blood to bleed from this particular spike. And…." He paused, looking at the ground around them. "As there is no obvious blood spillage on the ground, I would say that these stab wounds didn't occur here but somewhere else. She was probably killed in privacy and then brought out here to display to the world."

"You could tell all that just by looking at her body?"

"As much as it may surprise you, Lewis, that _is _my job."

"Do you think it's linked to the other cases? Do you think it's the same killer?"

Harry frowned, scrutinising the body. He had dealt with the post-mortems of several other victims that were linked with the abductions that were going on around here and, although it wasn't exactly the same cause of death or discovery method, there were similarities. Like the fact they were all women in their late twenties to mid-thirties and all went missing for a time before they were found dead. Judging by the bruises on the insides of Nancy's thighs, she had been treated to the same sexual assault as the rest.

Many of the other victims too had suffered multiple wounds to their breasts and groins with one even having her breasts completely sliced off. It was like whoever was committing the crimes was trying to remove their femininity. All had been discovered away from their place of death, displayed for the whole world to see. The first one had been sitting on a bench at a tube station, naked and mutilated. It was astonishing that no CCTV picked up anything. Then there was one on a children's roundabout and another outside the police station itself. There seemed to be no links between the women except they were all reasonably young and pretty. Every single one had a devastated boyfriend and family left behind.

Another thing the forensic pathologists had found was that whoever was committing these murders had a very good clean up method afterwards because there was next to no evidence on any of the bodies. They could work out the cause of death and what they had been subjected to beforehand – numerous tortures, it would seem – but they could never come up with DNA on the killer. They hadn't even found any sperm or foreign hair in the pubic region. This had led Harry to believe that this criminal must have a very good grip on pathology or at least policing.

What was most jarring about this ongoing case was that every time the corpse of one of the lost girls would turn up, another woman would go missing at the exact same time. It was as if the killer grew bored of the initial one and wanted to trade it for a new one. Harry found the whole saga rather sickening.

"Do you want us to remove her now?"

"Let me just take a couple of swabs," Harry said, getting out his tools. "Then she'll be ready. Have you informed the relatives?"

"Not yet."

"Then how did you identify her?"

"As I said, she was missing and there had been several pictures given out of her. We all recognised her as soon as we saw her."

"Right, well they'll probably have to come to the morgue for a formal identity." Harry stood up and popped the top on his last pot of evidence. "There we go, all done."

The pair of them left to allow some other men to come in and remove the body as gently as they could. They wondered outside the tent and Harry began to de-glove and de-uniform.

"You look like a snowman in that get up," Lewis stated, amusedly.

"Yes, well it's compulsory for me to wear one and I've had several women telling me I look 'dashing' in it."

"Well, it's hardly like you're their saviour or their knight in shining armour considering you only wear it when visiting dead people. They can't really say much, can they? Unless they speak from beyond the grave! Like in that US programme, er, what's it called?"

"Ghost Whisperer?" Harry deadpanned.

"Yeah."

"No, Lewis, I am _not _a ghost whisperer."

"Well, then you must have been told that by a fellow pathologist," Lewis deduced. His face lit up. "Wait a minute; is it that hottie that works at your morgue? What's her name…" He clicked his fingers as Harry stared at him, unimpressed. "Dr. Alexander. Phew, she is beautiful. I don't know how you can work with her without wanting to-" The young man screwed up his face and thrust his hips.

"I….manage," Harry said, slowly, raising an incredulous eyebrow at what the detective had just done. "You know, as much as I like standing here talking about my fellow colleague's fuckableness, I really must be going."

"Oh, yeah, right," Lewis flushed, "Sorry about that. Got a bit carried away."

Harry nodded in agreement and then walked away, heading back to his car. By the time he was in the driver's seat, he was shaking his head in disgust. Lewis could be so crude sometimes. It looked like he'd grown up even less than Harry had. He decided that when he got back to the lab that he would call Nikki and see where she was. If she was skiving then he was so dobbing her in to Leo. It was time someone other than himself felt their boss' formidable wrath.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note - Thank you very, very much for the lovely reviews. I'm glad that you think the characters _are _in character. I tried hard to make them so.**

Upon arriving at the lab, Harry tossed his coat onto his desk and slumped into his chair. He grabbed the phone off the desk and began dialling Nikki's number – hopefully, Leo wouldn't mind a very small cost being added to the phone bill. The familiar sound of ringing filled his ear and he waited, tapping his fingers repeatedly on the desk. After awhile it went to answer phone and Harry sighed. She couldn't _still _be in bed, surely? He decided to try her mobile phone and if that didn't work then he was going to take a break and head round to drag his colleague out of bed with force. It wasn't fair that she should be allowed a day off. And if she _was _actually ill, well….he supposed could give her some flowers or grapes or something.

After another fruitless phone call, the young pathologist dropped his phone back in its cradle and stood up, stretching. Leo wasn't in his office so he must be in the dissection room. If Harry wanted to leave then he would have to ask his boss' permission first; especially considering he'd been late this morning. He would promise Leo that he would finish the case and his paperwork on his return.

Wandering, casually, up to the observation room, Harry shut the door behind him with a soft click and peered into the morgue, taking in the shining metal surfaces and bright, clinical lights. Charlie and Leo were in the room, working on the body of an overweight, middle-aged man. Even from his distance, Harry could see the glaring bullet hole in the centre of his blotchy forehead. It was a nasty way to go but probably quick.

Turning on the intercom, he dropped onto a chair and swung round in it – feeling for a moment like the little boy that Leo and Nikki always accused him of being.

"Good morning, Leo," he said with something of the air of a television host, "I have a few questions for you and if you answer them correctly then you will win a free dead body!"

"_Harry_!" his boss scolded, glancing up at him with a look that said 'that's too far'.

"Sorry, Leo," Harry tried to hide a grin.

"What do you want?"

The young pathologist shrugged. "Who says I want anything? Perhaps I just came for a much needed heart to heart." He steepled his fingers together and leant forwards. "We never just _talk _anymore, Leo. What's going on with you recently? How's Janet?"

"You know very well how Janet is," the older pathologist replied, firmly, "And unless you _actually _have something of importance to say to me then-"

"Tell me about your body, Leo," Harry said, then paused and affect an amused expression, "And I mean that in an entirely _non-sexual _way."

Leo gave him a disapproving look but it was tinged with a sparkle of humour. "This is a Mr Henry Gordon, forty-three, found dead in his taxi; I'm assuming that the cause of death was being shot in the head."

"Quite possibly," Harry agreed, sarcastically.

"Ah, but it's more interesting than you first think, Harry," Leo replied, wagging a gloved finger, "You see, at the scene of the crime, we found traces of another person's blood. Now, this could either be the killer or…"

"Or another victim," the younger pathologist nodded, gravely.

"I'm running some tests and we should get a better idea from the blood work. However, just judging by the amount of blood and the splatter marks, I would guess that it was from a nasty head wound. Considering there are no defensive marks or foreign blood on Mr Gordon, I would say this is a separate victim."

"So there's a missing body?"

"Or a missing person."

"You're right," Harry nodded, looking pensive and stroking his chin in an exaggerated manner, "That _is _interesting. But not as interesting as the fact that our workaholic colleague hasn't turned up for today. Do you mind if I just pop out to do a bit of spying?"

Leo made a face. "Can't you just leave her be?"

"Leo," Harry said in a mock admonishing voice, "You can't just allow your colleagues to 'drink all night and roll out of bed whatever time they please'. She's not a student." The professor didn't miss the use of his words from earlier.

"Fine, go, if it will get you out of my hair."

"Thanks, Leo."

* * *

The sky was a cool, crisp blue and Harry breathed in, allowing the stinging cold air to hit his lungs. He blinked in the hazy glow cast by the sun and slammed the door of his car behind him. Thrusting his keys into the lock, he twisted them sharply and then slipped them into his pocket before heading up the drive of Nikki's block of flats. When he said block, there were only three floors as it was merely a converted Victorian house and therefore there were only three flats. Although his colleague always described her home as ramshackle and _always cold_, Harry always thought it looked rustic and cosy.

Ringing the bell to his friend's flat, he waited patiently and then realised that if she wasn't answering the phone then she was unlikely to answer the doorbell. What was he meant to do now? Glancing around him, he registered that Nikki's car wasn't in its space. She probably hadn't been round to his to collect it and that meant she hadn't been out of her house _all _morning.

He rang the bell again and sighed. Contemplating trying one of the other flats and seeing if they would let him in, Harry suddenly heard the crunch of footfalls behind him on the asphalt. He spun round and smiled brightly when he saw the young woman who lived in the flat below Nikki. She had flowing auburn hair and was carrying two shopping bags.

"Hey, there," he greeted her, amiably, "I'm Nikki's friend-"

"Harry," the girl finished, "We've met before."

"Yes, that's right." He cocked his head slightly, surprised she remembered his name. He couldn't remember hers and that made him feel very guilty. "Anyway, Nikki's not answering her phone or the door and I was wondering whether you could let me in so I could go and drag her out of bed?" He clapped his hands softly together at the last bit and affected his best pleading expression.

Blushing slightly, the girl shook her head. "I can, if you really want, but there's not much point as I know she's not in."

"She's not?" Harry was taken aback.

"No," the girl replied, "She didn't come in last night. Well, not that I heard. I assumed she was with y-someone." She shrugged, a flush creeping up her neck when she realised what she'd almost implied. Harry, fortunately, was too preoccupied. Suddenly, he was _very _worried.

"Are you _sure_?"

"Well, no, but I usually do hear. Look, I can let you in if you want." She rummaged for her keys in her handbag.

"Hey, let me help you with that." Harry grabbed her shopping bag to stop it dropping on the ground.

"Thanks. Aha, here we are."

She unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping over the threshold with Harry trailing behind her. They both walked over the black and white chequered floor as the girl switched on the light.

"You can leave the bag there, thanks," the young woman said.

"Oh, right." Harry placed it down gently, worried about the eggs balanced on top and smiled, charmingly, at her. "I'll just go up quickly. Thank you, by the way."

"That's fine. I hope she's there."

Apprehensively, he hurried up the staircase, hearing the wood creak beneath his shoes. Nikki lived on the top floor so he had to lope up another flight before he reached her door. As he didn't have this key either, he wasn't sure what he was hoping for. However, he began to hammer on the door.

"Nikki? Nikki, if you're there, _please _open up!" he shouted. "Please! Nikki!"

There was no reply and Harry felt his heartbeat increase in his chest. He ran a distressed hand through his brown hair and frowned to himself. He tried to rationalise Nikki's absence but he couldn't come up with a single logical explanation. After all, she probably wouldn't have gone out if she hadn't been well enough to go to work and even if she had then how could she have got very far without her car? It didn't make sense. And why would she have not answered her phone if she was out?

Suddenly feeling very sick, Harry imagined Nikki lying in her flat having knocked herself out or something worse. She could be in a lot of trouble. Even though he was aware he was probably jumping to mad conclusions, Harry knew that his friend had a knack for getting into trouble and that if anyone was to get hurt then it would be Nikki. Deciding that he would have to bash the door down to see if he was actually there, Harry backed up and braced his shoulder for the impact. He took a deep breath. He'd seen this in the movies but he'd never done it himself. Somehow, he knew it was going to hurt way more than film stars _ever _made out.

"Before you go destroying Nikki's door, perhaps I can offer you the key?"

Harry whipped round and saw the girl – that he still didn't know the name of – standing at the top of the stairs with a wry expression on her face. She was holding up a jangling set of keys.

"How do you-"

"She gave me a spare. Just in case."

"Thanks," Harry said, coming over and taking the proffered item, "Again."

"As I said, its fine, Harry."

He offered her a weak smile and pried open the door. As soon as he walked in, he knew that Nikki wasn't here and hadn't been here. There was no warmth in the place and none of that fruity perfume she always wore. What was it called again? _Ruby Apple. _It made her smell good enough to eat…

Shaking that thought from his head, Harry focussed quickly on the gravity of the situation. Nikki had not returned home last night, despite telling him that she would. That thought _really _scared him. He could hear the rush of blood in his ears and he did a quick check of the flat just to make sure. Her bed was unslept in and there were two messages on the answer phone: one from him and the other from the heating man who said that he couldn't get into the house. That really clinched it for Harry and he burst out of the flat, startling Nikki's neighbour.

"I'm guessing she's not there?"

"No," he replied, grimly. "I'm going to head to mine and then back to work to see if I can find out where she's gone."

"God, I really hope she's okay." The girl's blue eyes were huge and round.

Harry frowned. "Me too. Look, thanks for the help..."

"I _knew _you didn't remember my name," the girl said, somewhat triumphantly but then added quickly, "Not that it matters, of course. It's Bethan."

"Thanks, Bethan," Harry repeated, "I'll see you around." Then he hurried to the stairs, leaping down them two at a time and vanishing out of sight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note - Thank you for the lovely reviews. The story will probably be getting darker from here on in so you have been warned. Then again, it is a show about death and murder so its to be expected. Please review this chapter!**

Tyres squealed on tarmac as Harry drew to a stop outside his apartment block and practically threw himself out of his car, knocking his knee on the door but hardly caring. His attention had been drawn to something far more important. Blue eyes widened as he saw a panda car and the remnants of a crime scene – the tent which had been erected was now being disassembled. Setting off at a run, he shoved his keys in his pocket and charged down the street. The sound of his heavy footfalls echoed in his ears as he felt his heart thump uncomfortably in his chest.

Observing the scene with quick eyes, he took in the shiny black cab which was being prepared to be hauled away and the dark stain on the pavement which had yet to be scrubbed away. This was obviously a murder investigation and, with a horrible sinking feeling, he realised which one it probably was. Judging by the fact they were clearing away, it meant that the pathologist had already been and gone and that the body would be back at the morgue. They'd only had two bodies today. The girl. And the taxi driver. But why on earth had Leo not mentioned that the murder had taken place in his street?

Raking panicked hands through his hair, Harry heard alarm bells going off in his head. He needed to get back to the Lab.

As he sprinted back to the car, he contemplated calling Leo but there was no point, he would be at the university in a few minutes and then he could explain things there. What he couldn't get over was the fact that there had been a murder in his street and that he had let Nikki leave his apartment _alone _last night to get a taxi. Leo had suggested that there was another victim alongside the cab driver. Although Harry dreaded to think it, he knew there was an awfully high chance that it could be the female pathogolist.

"Oh God, _no_," he whispered to himself as he sped through the streets of London. He almost jumped a red traffic light but managed to stop himself just in time which was a good thing as there was a police car coming in the other direction. Trying to breathe slowly and calmly, Harry blew into his cheeks and counted to ten. "Come one, Harry," he said, "Keep it together. You're probably just jumping to conclusions."

Turning into the forensic building's car park, he skidded into a space and then climbed out of his vehicle, almost forgetting to lock it as he strode towards the main doors. His only thought was to find Leo.

The glass doors slid open for him as he snapped his card through the slot and then he hurried into their work area, looking into Leo's office. His boss wasn't there. Then where the hell was he? Harry gritted his teeth and kept himself from cursing in frustration; there was no need to lose his temper right now. Barrelling into the changing rooms, he found Asif, one of the technicians.

"Where's Leo?" he barked, forcefully, catching the other man's arm.

Spinning round in surprise, Asif looked into his stormy eyes; perplexed. "He's in the conference room."

"Thank you," Harry nodded and realised his vice like grip.

Like a whirlwind, he slammed out of the changing area and into the room that they used for discussing the evidence. The interactive whiteboards shone brightly on the walls, showing images of the gunshot wound that Harry had seen earlier and several blood spatters on the brown headrest. The young pathologist felt vaguely nauseous as his attention was brought to the unexplained extra blood smeared on the tarmac. He had to swallow fiercely and control himself.

Leo looked up when his colleague charged into the well lit room and smiled at him.

"Hello, Harry, back already? How was Nikki?" The older pathologist paused when he saw the chalk white colour of his friend's face. He frowned, immediately concerned. "Harry? What's wrong?"

Harry shook his head unable to answer that particular question. "Leo, when would you say your man was killed?"

Stepping towards his ill looking friend, the silver haired man held out a reassuring hand. "Last night. Around midnight I would say, judging from the oxidised blood. But Harry, what's this got to do with anything? Tell me what's wrong!"

"Its…." The pathologist halted, unable to form words in his constricted throat. He tried again. "It's Nikki. She's not at home and hasn't been there since last night and she left my house around…..midnight when she went to get a _taxi_. Leo! Why didn't you tell me the murder was in my road?!"

Leo's face was a mask of shock and he didn't even reply. His jaw hung slack and his eyes were shining with horror. He looked like one of those Greek characters from tragedies, Harry dimly thought. However, he couldn't help feel in even worse when he realised that his boss had put together exactly the same clues as him. It made everything seem even more real.

"The blood work came back," Leo said, hoarsely, "The chromosomes in the DNA show the blood was from a woman but I never even thought….good god…."

He collapsed in a chair, placing his elbows on his knees and staring at the carpeted floor in complete dismay. His rough palms were cupped over his mouth as if he was trying not to utter a distressed sound or, perhaps, he was trying not to be sick like Harry.

"The girl I brought in this morning…." the darker haired man said, softly, "She had the same wounds as the others: London's Lost Girls. That meant he needed another to replace her….Jesus, Leo, you don't think?"

The professor didn't reply.

* * *

Everything was hot. It was like being in a sauna but even worse – an oven. Rivulets of perspirations dribbled down heated skin, mingling with the grime and smudges of mascara. Liquid collected in the hollow of her collar bone, salty and warm. A metallic tang hung in the air and clung to chapped lips – she could taste her own blood.

Such an unfamiliar coppery flavour woke her up and Nikki Alexander opened her eyes only to find herself in almost complete darkness. Through the dimness she couldn't see anything except a few unrecognisable shadows and outlines. Hearing her breath come in quick, sharp breaths she tried to move but found that she was tethered to something by a binding round her wrists. The chink of metal told her they were handcuffs.

The handcuffs were hot, burning her skin; blistering at their searing touch. She let out a gasp of pain but that pain was overwhelmed by a greater agony which suddenly made itself known on her temple. Reaching up a tiny way - because of her restraints - with shaking fingers, she felt the stickiness of blood and an unpleasantly large swelling. The skin had split and felt strange beneath her delicate touch. It was too raw and exposed. Letting out a small whimper, she tried to ignore the hurt of her body and focus on why the world around her was so hot. Her back felt like it was on fire.

It was then that she realised that she was sitting beside a radiator. The other ends of her handcuffs were connected to the pipes at the side of it and she couldn't move away from it. Such sweltering heat was horrendous and made her feel faint and sick, especially as she couldn't get away from it.

She tugged ferociously against her restraints and arched her body away from the metal heater but it didn't have any effect. She couldn't escape the cuffs around her slender wrists either – they were conducting heat from the radiator and roasting her flesh.

Fighting the urge to scream in pain and frustration, Nikki tried to remember what happened to her. It was difficult as the memories seemed so cloudy as she sifted through them in her head. It was like swimming through silt; blinding. Vaguely, she recalled spending the evening at Harry's house but even that was through a haze of alcohol so that wasn't very clear. Then she remembered going home and there being a dead man in the taxi with a bullet in his skull. That's when someone had hit her.

Who?

She had no idea but they seemed to have kidnapped her. A frightening thought ran through her addled brain: what did they want her for? Somehow, she knew it couldn't be anything pleasant.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note - Well, its been a long, _long _time since I updated but, since SW has come round once again and struck me with the unshakable Harry/Nikki bug AGAIN, I thought I'd rekindle this story. Reviews are appreciated. **

Nikki struggled uselessly at her handcuffs, breaking her fingernails and hurting her wrists as she desperately tried to pull the metal rings off over her hands. She yanked and wiggled but short of breaking all the bones in her hands, there was no way she was going to get the cuffs off and therefore there was no way she could escape the horrific burning heat of the radiator. This searing pain was inescapable and she couldn't help the tears that welled in her brown eyes before streaming down her cheeks. Gasping, she gave one last sharp tug at her manacled wrists before giving up.

Pressing the pain to the back of her mind, she stared into the muggy darkness around her, trying to process her surroundings more thoroughly than her original cursory glance. Squinting, she managed to pick out a flight of stairs on the opposite wall which probably led up to a door of some kind. There were no windows. That meant she was probably in a basement. The basement of an unknown, gun-toting, kidnapping murderer… Her heart clenched uneasily at the thought. Her sharp eyes also picked out a chair, a rickety bed stand in the corner with a worn mattress and a single light bulb that hung from the ceiling. The floor beneath her was rough and gritty, only furthering her belief that she was in a cellar.

Panting loudly and feeling beads of sweat trickle down the nape of her neck, Nikki had no idea what to do now. She was at a loss. Her head still stung but there was nothing she could do about that with her hands bound, she'd already scouted out her prison and thus she now had nothing to keep her occupied. Instead, her agitated brain began to whir with sickening, inexorable thoughts.

Would anyone even know she was gone? She'd left Harry's house at night; it had been dark so no one would have seen what had happened _plus_ her disappearance would definitely not be noticed until the morning. In fact, would they even notice then? And when she said 'they' she meant Harry and Leo because they were the only two people who ever seemed to care about her at all. Harry would probably think she was nursing a hangover and Leo would listen, probably amused, to Harry's stories of last night and think nothing more of it. That meant she could potentially be missing for a whole night and day without someone realising. But, surely, Harry would check on her at some point? He always did that. She wasn't sure exactly why but maybe he believed it was in his job description as best friend to check on her wellbeing daily, especially when she was ill. One time he'd even come over to camp at her apartment with chicken soup and a stack of DVDs when she'd had a particularly bad bout of the flu. They'd watched _Disney_ films – much to Harry's own distaste – all evening.

However, she had no idea how long she'd been unconscious for and therefore how many days had passed since she was whacked over the head with a blunt object. They could be looking for her now. But what would they do? How would they have any idea where to look for her? Would they think she'd just left or would they realise she'd been kidnapped? Her throat constricted with the horrible thought that they'd just think she'd run away – maybe with some guy – to start a life a fresh. They wouldn't even look for her. She'd be left here…

But wait! The taxi driver! And the blood! _Her _blood. She had a bloody head wound so there must have been blood on the ground when she was knocked out.

Her mind triumphantly struck upon those two realisations and she felt a little better. There was no way that her colleagues would miss the fact that there were two victims at that murder scene and it was a murder that had occurred right on Harry's doorstep. They must have put two and two together. Well, she sincerely _hoped _they had put two and two together.

The door at the stop of the stairs creaked and Nikki jumped, feeling her stomach plummet in dreadful apprehension. Was she about to meet her captor? A stream of light came through the door as it was opened fully and she could see a tall figure silhouetted against the unexpected glow. He stood for a moment at the top of the stairs and, even from the distance and in the dim light; she could feel his eyes boring into her. She shivered involuntarily.

Sucking in a deep breath, she braced herself for whatever was about to come. However, the man seemed to have got what he came for because he turned around and shut the door behind him. The tension dispersed from Nikki's body like a balloon that had just been deflated. In a way – strangely – she felt disappointed that whoever _he _was hadn't come down because it was in her nature to want to have answers and he was the only one who could probably give them to her. She was nervous, obviously, but she wanted to know by whom she had been kidnapped and why. It was important because until she knew the reasons she would be balanced on a knife edge, nervous, edgy and frightened – which is probably exactly how her captor wanted her.

The uncertainty was what terrified her most. It always had done. She liked to know facts, figures and outcomes. But here, in this hot, suffocating prison, she had no idea what was going to happen to her.

* * *

Staring at the dark blood spatter on the screen in front of him, Harry's gut twisted with anxiety and nausea. They had run a DNA test using a sample of the blood found at the scene and some of the hair from Nikki's brush – which Harry had broken into her locker for. It had been a match. He recalled, vividly, the way his whole world had seemed to freeze and how he'd wanted to vomit, scream and punch something all at the same time when the match was confirmed. Leo's shocked, pale face as he read out the results was also burnt into his retinas, scarring him for life.

So this was _definitely _the blood of Nikki Alexander, spilled carelessly on the pavement for all to see. He was reminded of the rich red wine that he'd almost spilt last night in the presence of Nikki. She'd laughed at his clumsiness. They'd joked about it. How could that have been only last night? How could Nikki be missing? Just thinking about the happiness of the memory and how, frankly, awful he was feeling now made his stomach churn.

"We believe that Dr. Alexander was attacked at around midnight last night," Leo's voice penetrated Harry's daze and he turned to see his boss leading the SIO on the case into the conference room. "She hasn't been seen since she left Dr. Cunningham's apartment at quarter to twelve yesterday evening."

"Right," the SIO nodded, solemnly, "And you think her attack and likely abduction may be linked to the case of London's Lost Girls?"

"I'm afraid so," Leo said, softly, deep frown lines creasing his forehead. "As you know, the pattern seems to be that the killer kidnaps one girl, keeps her for a week or so before trading her in for a new one. We had the latest victim in the morgue this morning."

Harry turned away from the conversation, trying to tune Leo's words out. He closed his eyes and attempted to think about anything other than Nikki turning up, mutilated and naked, on a slab. It was probably his worst nightmare. He recalled the horrific moment when he'd seen Penny's face unzipped from the body bag and how he only just managed to keep from being sick on the spot. He couldn't imagine Nikki's soft, warm features being so cold and lifeless and generally _dead_. If she was murdered…he didn't know what he would do. His mind didn't even want to consider the possibility.

Exhaling heavily and willing himself to hold things together, he tuned back into the conversation.

"We'll try and get as much evidence as we can from Nancy Roberts' body. Maybe the killer will have made a mistake this time," he sighed, his eyes infinitely sad, "Maybe we'll get lucky."

The SIO saw his expression and offered a sympathetic smile. "We'll do everything we can to find your colleague, Professor Dalton. I promise you. This time it will be different. We have to put an end to this sadist's killing spree once and for all."

Once the detective had left, Leo came and leant on the table next to Harry. Initially, he didn't speak which Harry was extremely grateful for. However, soon he blew air into his cheeks and crossed his arms. Instinctively, the younger pathologist realised he was about to speak. Leo was about to comfort him, he knew. But although he dearly loved his friend for trying – for being the strong, rational one – he didn't think he could deal with sympathy now. It made him hurt even more inside.

"Leo…" he began, pain etched into his voice, "Can we just…can we just leave it for now?"

He pushed himself up off the desk with his hands and ran tense fingers through his dark hair, sending it into immediate disarray. His intense grey eyes met Leo's blue ones in a clash of stormy colour and shared distress.

"Harry…"

"I can't…its hard to deal with…she's missing and…"

Although he didn't manage to form a single full, coherent sentence he knew that Leo understood how he was feeling. Leo merely nodded slowly and pushed himself up too. He took a few paces towards the whiteboards and then spun on his heel, catching Harry's flickering gaze.

"Do you want to talk about the case rather than how you're feeling?" Leo asked, candidly, his eyebrows raised in his trademark way.

"Um…no, sorry, Leo. I think I need a bit of air."

Harry offered him a cursory nod and began to leave. As he did so he bumped into a scrawny youth with greasy hair and glasses, almost knocking him over. The kid's bag fell on the floor and a few objects rolled out. Looking flustered, the boy quickly began scooping them up.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, bending down, "Do you want a hand?"

"No!" the boy yelped, pushing his glasses up his nose and throwing the last object back in his scruffy bag. It was tiny and black but Harry couldn't tell what it was. "No it's fine!"

The boy straightened and smiled at Harry – though Harry couldn't help but feel it seemed rather strained. He wondered what the youth was so worried about. In fact, what was he doing here anyway?

"Um…if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing here?"

"I go to the university," he stammered, a painful flush spreading up his neck and cheeks, "My computing teacher…." He gulped, tripping over his words. "My computing teacher said there were some problems with the network. He…he wanted me to check them out. You know, for practice."

Harry frowned. "Oh, right I see. I'll leave you with Leo then." He headed out the door.

Leo smiled in a friendly way at the stuttering, red-faced student. "If you don't mind, I'll leave you too it to. I'm guessing you know your way around, right?"

The boy nodded and Leo quickly followed his colleague out.

* * *

The door creaked open again. Nikki was curled over awkwardly, like a foldable camping chair, with her forehead pressed against the cool floor beneath her. It was her only reprieve from the intense heat that was eating away at her, both physically and mentally. Her breath caught in her throat and she waited, wondering whether the man would stay. A secondary creak from the top step suggested he would be. She tracked the footsteps carefully, without looking up. There was a pause when he reached the bottom. She gulped, still attached to the ground.

"Well, this is a novel way to be introduced, don't you think?" The voice was deep and masculine and set the hairs on Nikki's arms on end.

Slowly, she pushed herself off the floor, reluctant to leave its coolness, and looked up at the man who was holding her prisoner. He was standing just a couple of feet away, towering over her; so close that she felt her heart rate increase a notch. She suddenly felt very, very small and vulnerable.

"Who are you?" she whispered, stuck between him and the burning radiator and not knowing which she would rather be closer to. In the end she went for the radiator. The heat burnt her shoulder mercilessly.

"You can call me Isaac," the man replied. He paused briefly to allow Nikki to process his words before stating, "And you are Nicola Alexander, although you like to be known as Nikki. You're thirty-four years old. You work as a forensic pathologist at the Lyell Centre on the LSSE campus. You have a PHD in anthropology. You were brought up in South Africa. Your mother is deceased…"

"How do you know all of that?" Nikki interrupted with a horrified gasp, her eyes wide and fearful.

"I like to read up on all my guests, Nikki. I believe it makes them feel more at home."

"Guests?" Nikki choked as sudden, sickening realisation struck her.

"Yes, Nikki, my lost girls. You must have met some of them, surely? You know, at the end of the line so to speak…"

Nikki was a brave person. She was tough. She didn't often get scared. But, in that moment, she was the most scared she had _ever_ been in her entire life.

**REVIEW! :D **


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note - Thank you very much for the lovely reviews and the fact you've all got back into the story even after all this time! **

**In terms of last nights episode, does anyone think that the guy in prison is not the killer and that its either the dad or the brother? My brother thinks when he said 'I did it for love' he was having a homosexual love affair with Bob. :D I'm inclined to agree just to make things more interesting! **

"If he didn't have his head up his arse then maybe the stupid _fool _would be able to see something other than his own digestive tract!" Harry yelled aggressively at the mirror in the men's bathroom. His eyes flashed dangerously.

"Harry!" Leo admonished, swiftly, coming to stand beside him.

"But he's not even listening to us!" Harry exclaimed, turning to face his mentor.

"He's busy," Leo said, placing a hand on his friend's arm - whether it was for comfort or a precaution it wasn't obvious. "This is a large investigation, very high profile, and he has to oversee it all."

Harry growled deep in his throat. "How the hell can he expect to _solve _anything without our evidence?"

"He has other lines of enquiry..."

"Don't," Harry interrupted, angrily, "Don't you defend him Leo. He's an incompetent, ignorant prat and he's going to get Nikki _killed_!"

The younger man ripped his arm away from Leo and, without warning, smashed his fist straight through the mirror. Leo lurched forward but it was too late for him to stop it. Shards of glass flew through the air and clattered noisily into the sink below. Several pieces made it to the floor and skittered away across the smooth surface. Harry retracted his hand and held it close to him, breathing hard.

"Did that _really _make you feel better, Harry?" Leo sighed, seeing the spider-web of blood already crisscrossing Harry's hand. It was dark red against his pale skin and dripped over the knob of bone on his wrist and down his arm like a slow-moving slug.

"As a matter of fact, it did," Harry replied, acerbically. He turned to leave.

"Oh no you don't!" Leo grabbed his arm and made sure he'd got a firmer grip this time. His blue eyes were fraught with concern. "Let me get that checked out."

"It's fine."

"It certainly isn't," Leo said, sharply.

Seeing the other pathologist's expression, Harry sighed and permitted his friend to examine him by offering his arm back. Leo held his wrist tightly between his strong fingers, making sure it was elevated above Harry's rapidly beating heart before dragging him forcibly from the bathroom. They made a strange sight as they walked down the corridor and several of the technicians raised their eyebrows at the bloody hand. Leo brushed them off but asked Asif whether he could call maintenance to get the 'mess' in the toilets sorted out. Immediately, he knew they would all be making a beeline for the scene of the crime, wondering what had happened. It was in their nature to be nosy.

"Sit," Leo ordered, literally pushing Harry into a seat in the relative privacy of his office. "Now stay there. I'm going to get the first aid kit."

He returned a few minutes later with a green box, some tweezers and plenty of antiseptic wipes. The blood was still oozing from Harry's self-inflicted wound but not as rapidly as it had before. That was a good sign. It meant he hadn't done anything too serious.

"Hold still," he commanded, as he snapped on rubber gloves, with the air of a parent scolding a small child. "This is going to hurt but you deserve it." He shot his colleague a meaningful look.

Harry did as he was told. There was no point in arguing or disobeying, he had nothing to gain from it. Instead he sat in moody silence as Leo expertly cleaned his wound and inspected the cuts for glass. By the looks of it, he found several pieces. Pain shot through Harry's hand as Leo methodically began removing them one by one with the tweezers. He tried not to wince as it would only serve to increase Leo's satisfaction and belief that he was a complete idiot. Vaguely, he recalled a time when it was Nikki sitting beside him, carefully cleaning and bandaging his bite, laughing at his stupidity. His heart clenched with unbearable pain at the simple memory.

New rivulets of lurid crimson blood escaped from his cuts as the glass was removed and Harry stared at them, watching their individual sticky red paths across his skin. His gaze travelled to Leo's silver-haired head, bent in concentration, as he patiently made sure he got every single little shard. Seeing the care that his friend was putting into fixing him made Harry feel immediately bad. It wasn't Leo's fault that the detective managing the case was a self-righteous dick and yet, essentially, Harry had taken his anger and frustration out on one of his closest friends. Guilt seeped through his body.

"I'm sorry, Leo," he said, softly. The anger had dissipated slightly.

Leo glanced up, looking relieved. "I'm glad. I didn't realise you could be so reckless though. Do you know how easily you could have irreparably damaged your hand?"

"Yeah, I just...I guess I just wasn't thinking straight." He sighed and paused before smiling weakly. "I may be okay but that mirror is definitely done for."

"Yes, it is, and you're paying for the damage."

"Yes, of course," Harry agreed, ducking his head.

They both lapsed into silence once more.

Leo plucked the last remnants of glass from his hand and then began mopping up the blood with the wipes. Once it was relatively clean, he placed a couple of pieces of gauze over the deepest cuts and then wrapped a bandage around them. When he finished, Harry's hand felt stiff with the tightness of the dressing. He flexed his fingers experimentally, checking circulation.

"Thanks, Leo."

"Don't mention it."

As Leo began to tidy away the mess he had made, there was a knock on the door and they looked up to see the detective on the case. He was a thick-set man with a ruddy face and massive caterpillar eyebrows. DCI Tarrant. He was in charge of the whole investigation into London's Lost Girls and Harry hated him with a passion.

"Well, well, well….what happened here?" DCI Tarrant said as he stepped into the room. "Fist fight?"

"Harry had a run in with a mirror," Leo said, succinctly.

"Ah, yes, those pesky mirrors definitely deserve a punch or two," the detective laughed.

Harry glowered at him and muttered, "I can think of something I'd like to give a punch or two to."

"What was that, Harry?" Tarrant said, looking innocent but they both knew perfectly well what Harry had growled. His mammoth-like eyebrows were raised expectantly.

Knowing he wasn't going to win this battle, Harry conceded, "Nothing. I've got….I should go home, Leo. I'm not feeling that great."

"I think that's a good idea," Leo agreed. He felt for his friend, he really did. They were both upset but Harry was definitely taking this the hardest. "Get some rest and come back in the morning. Hopefully something more will turn up."

* * *

When Harry arrived home he realised that his electricity was out. Grumbling, he checked around his neighbours and realised that his apartment was the only one affected. He was no good with electrics so he phoned up his local electricians and asked for one to pop round as soon as possible. The lady on the other end of the phone suggested the workman would take about an hour to arrive.

Once he'd accomplished this, he dropped down onto his sofa and allowed the feeling of absolute exhaustion and hopelessness to overcome him. They hadn't found anything on the post-mortem of Nancy Roberts. The same clinical attention to detail had been paid to making sure she was free of anything incriminating. The only conclusions they could draw were from her injuries - which were similar to the other girls - and that was that she'd been killed by the same person who had killed the six previous women and who probably had Nikki.

Harry's whole body shuddered from head to toe as he thought about finding Nikki in the same way they'd found Nancy Roberts or Evelyn Kite or Mary Butler or any of the other girls; disrespectfully displayed for everyone to see, their genitals slashed and their bodies broken and violated.

Suddenly, the door buzzed and he looked up. Surely that couldn't be the electrician? If it was then they were very prompt. It had only been ten minutes. Grabbing his torch and striding over to the door, he checked through the eyehole and saw there was indeed a man standing on the other side dressed in electricians' overalls. He had a tool box in one hand and seemed to be whistling quietly to himself. Harry unlocked the door.

"Hi, you're early," he said, pleasantly surprised.

"Oh yeah," the man nodded, easily, "I was already on a job around here when you called. You're Harry Cunningham, right?"

"Yes," Harry replied, "Please, do come in."

He gestured for the electrician to follow him in and the two of them made their way into the living room, their path lit by Harry's torch. Once there, Harry walked over to the electrical box for the house and gestured to it. He scratched the back of his head, awkwardly.

"Embarrassingly, I'm pretty shit at anything electrical so I'm not even sure what went wrong."

"Oh, that's fine," the man replied, breezily, "Let me check it out."

The bloke knelt down and began fiddling around inside with the multi-coloured mess of wires. He had a penlight that he poked around in order to see. Harry watched him for a few minutes as he hmmm-ed and haaaa-ed.

"What do you think?"

"I'm not sure. It might take awhile."

"Well, I'm paying you by the hour so don't hang about too long," Harry joked, feebly. He wasn't in the mood to have another person in his house when all he wanted to do was wallow in misery with a glass of scotch. However, there wasn't much he could do until the electricity was fixed. "I'll just go into my study. Call if you need."

Once in his study, Harry dropped down, heavily, onto his swivel chair and ran a hand over the coarse stubble on his jaw. It rasped beneath his touch. There wasn't much he could do with the lights off and his computer not working so he merely sat in his chair and stared at the blank monitor. Briefly, his tired gaze dropped to the framed photograph that stood at the side of his desk. It was one of him, Leo and Nikki in a country pub that they'd visited whilst on a job outside London. He remembered the cottage-like tavern had been situated in an idyllic landscape of rolling hills, velvety green forests and farmers' fields rich with golden corn and black and white cows. The case had involved a young farmhand who'd been found on top of a haystack in a barn. They eventually worked out that there hadn't been any foul play but that he'd suffered from carbon monoxide poisoning from a faulty machine in the barn whilst he'd been sorting out animal feed.

They had gone to the pub for lunch and Harry remembered how Nikki had teased him about flirting with the waitress. He'd told her he hadn't been flirting 'he'd merely been making pleasant conversation' but she didn't seem to believe him. Furthermore, he remembered that the waitress had seen Nikki leaning against Harry's shoulder and laughing at something he'd said – naturally, because he was very funny – and shot her a really evil, jealous look. Nikki hadn't noticed and Harry didn't mention it but he recalled having a warm glow inside of him at the thought that they looked like a couple.

In the photo, Nikki was sitting in the middle, seemingly protected on both sides by people who loved and cared about her immensely. She had a massive cheesy grin on her face and wisps of her blonde hair were escaping her ponytail, making her look rather wild. It was a look Harry really liked on her.

He sighed. They hadn't protected her enough though, had they?

Suddenly, he registered that he hadn't heard much from the electrician in a while. Frowning, Harry heaved himself out the chair and padded out of the study, brandishing his bright torch in front of him. He wandered back into the living room but the electrician was nowhere to be seen. Perplexed and a little uneasy, Harry checked the rest of the downstairs of his apartment before realising the workman was not there. He pressed on up the stairs, hearing each one creak beneath his feet as he ascended. Vaguely, he could hear a kind of rustling and hurried footsteps coming from his bedroom.

With a spurt of energy, he pushed open the door and barreled inside. He had to flash his torch around a few times until the beam illuminated the perpetrator. The electrician froze like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. His pupils retracted in the sharp light.

Harry took a few moments to react to realising that this guy was probably stealing his stuff and in that time the electrician had run straight at him. Not really knowing what to do, Harry found himself knocked flying by the madly escaping man. He hit the floor hard and felt a lance of pain shoot up his elbow with the impact. However, he ignored the pain and sprung to his feet, charging after the thief in the hopes of catching him.

They both charged down the wooden staircase, their loud footfalls echoing in the open space. The other man was surprisingly fast and Harry had only just reached the hallway by the time he'd reached the front door. Shooting Harry an almost gleeful grin, the electrician slipped out of the door and slammed it behind him. The sound of footsteps scurrying down steps could be heard through the door and Harry sighed. There was no way he would catch him. He'd just have to check what had been stolen and call the police.

He slammed the flat of his fist into wall angrily and stomped back into his dark house. He couldn't deal with all this on top of Nikki's abduction.

Still seething, he almost didn't hear the door buzz again. A frown knotted his brow and Harry spun on his heel, heading back. He checked through the peephole again.

"You've _got _to be kidding me," he cursed when he saw who stood on the other side.

There was a man dressed in forest green overalls with the logo _Eric's Excellent Electricians _embroidered on the pocket in white. The other guy didn't have that. Furious, Harry opened the door.

"Hi there," the electrician said, "You must be Mr. Cunningham. I'm Dean from Eric's Electricians."

"I thought I'd just had one of your guys, Dean," Harry sighed, realising what Dean would say before he did.

Dean shrugged. "Oh, well I was the only one sent, Mr. Cunningham. Now, what seems to be the problem?"

Realising that this was most likely the genuine article and he'd been duped before, Harry groaned inwardly and led the new electrician to the electrical box. This time he was determined to stay with the bloke and make sure nothing went wrong. He watched with narrowed eyes as Dean fiddled around with the wires, just like the guy before had.

"Do you know what the matter is?"

"Um…" Dean paused, turning around and looking at him strangely. "Yeah. I'm afraid I do. I don't know how to put this but….it seems your mains electrical cable into the apartment has been cut."

"Cut? You mean chewed by rodents or something?"

"No," Dean replied, his voice serious, "By a knife or pliers. Look."

He held up two pieces of black cable and showed Harry that they were meant to be joined. Harry took them with a deep frown on his face. He inspected the ends and saw that Dean was right. It did look like someone had tampered with them quite deliberately. Was it the other electrician? No, because his lights had been out before hand. Then who?

"Do you have any enemies, Mr. Cunningham? Anyone who would have done this?"

"Well, to start with, I don't know who would have managed to get into my apartment," Harry murmured, the cogs in his brain whirring madly.

"Well, I've replaced it now," Dean said, twisting a few screws and pressing a button. Suddenly, the lights in the apartment switched on. "There. That should do it." He stood up, his knees creaking. "Now, Mr. Cunningham, I'd advise you to contact the police. Just in case, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, still thinking hard, "Thanks, Dean. How much do I owe you?"

Once he'd paid the electrician and showed him out of the apartment, Harry checked everywhere to see what had been stolen. There didn't seem to be anything out of place – well, apart from a few mugs that had been broken in the kitchen – and he couldn't see anything missing.

So what the hell had that guy been doing in his bedroom?

**Hmm...I wonder... Sorry there was no Nikki this chapter. You'll get a lot of her next chapter I promise! :D **


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note - Thank you very much for the reviews. Just read a spoiler for tomorrow. Really wished I hadn't. Kind of want to cry...**

**Please review!**

Her whole body trembled. A ball of nauseating fear curled up in her chest and she tried not to make an audible noise. He knew exactly who she was. _Everything _about her. She wasn't just some random girl swiped off the street. This had been a planned attack. An attack that had been planned _and _executed with perfect precision. He had her in his dark, musty dungeon and there was no way to escape. In fact, she knew – without a doubt – that the only way she would leave this place was in a body bag. She'd been in dangerous situations before but, knowing Isaac's deadly record, this really topped them all.

"Why…" she whispered, wiping a sweaty tendril of hair from her damp forehead, "Why are you doing this?"

"Ah, isn't that the big question?" Isaac smiled, crouching down so he was on her level, staring intensely into her eyes. She physically recoiled. "The one you've been trying to figure out for months. Your team haven't done a very good job of finding out who I am, have they Dr. Alexander?"

Nikki gulped, looking away. "There was no evidence on the bodies. We had no clues."

"Were you impressed?" the man asked, curiously. Reaching out her ran a cold finger down her burning cheek. Much to her disgust, she almost leant into the coolness for relief. _Almost_.

"Impressed by _what _exactly?" she snapped, glaring at him.

"My obvious expertise? My light-handedness? My clinical attention to detail," Isaac suggested, nonchalantly. A wolfish smile curled his lips. "Didn't you wonder how I learnt enough to fool you with all your clever tests and procedures?"

"We assumed….we assumed you were connected to the field."

"Ah…then you'd be right, Dr. Alexander. Not quite as stupid as you all make out, eh?"

"Are you a pathologist?" she asked, curious despite herself. She was never one to give up on a case. She loved learning the facts. Piecing together the bits of the puzzle.

"Not quite," he smirked, "Not quite but you're very warm."

"A doctor?"

"Guess again."

"A detective," Nikki guessed, hating that she was cooperating with him but not seeing how she could do anything else. She was very aware that he was playing games with her.

"Gold star!" Isaac said. His blue eyes were suddenly distant. "Well, I _was _a detective." He focussed back on her. "But then I decided to have a change of career. Personally, I think it utilises my hard-learned skills quite well, don't you?"

Nikki said nothing. She'd had enough. She wasn't going to allow him to build a rapport with her. She wouldn't be his plaything. The fact he was a detective meant he knew _exactly _how to play the mind games until you broke. He'd probably done it enough times in interrogation. She kept her mouth clamped shut.

"Oh, Dr. Alexander, have you had enough?" Isaac asked, patronisingly, his head cocked as if he was addressing a wayward puppy or a stubborn toddler rather than a woman he was torturing in his basement. "Don't you want to know anymore? I thought a pathologist's thirst for answers was what drove them? Or is that just cops I'm thinking of?"

He looked expectantly at her with dark eyebrows raised. She glared at the radiator that was still burning her shoulder, determined not to make eye contact with this monster. There were thin cracks and chinks in the ceramic of the radiator. Gently, she ran an already burning finger down one. Her eyes shone with tears, partly from the pain and partly from the devastating reality of the situation she'd found herself in.

"I had a fiancée once," Isaac said, his deep voice echoing around the enclosed space. Nikki flinched like a frightened animal.

"That's nice for you," she said with biting sarcasm.

"It was. I loved her very much. Then she went missing. I was distraught. I thought she'd been abducted." Nikki found herself listening intently, despite desperately wanting to have the strength to ignore him. "I had the whole London police force looking for her. For weeks I searched. Those were the worst and darkest days of my life."

"How unfortunate for you," Nikki sniped but really she was intrigued as to where he was going with this story.

"And then, out of the blue, I had a phone call from _her_. She was in America. She told me to leave her the hell alone and to stop looking for her. That's when I realised she'd just left me. She hadn't been in trouble. She wasn't dead. She was just a stupid, selfish bitch who'd got fed up with living with me and gone. I was humiliated. I'd wasted police time and effort. I went from being the victim to the laughing stock of the CID."

"Touching," Nikki said, acerbically. "Maybe she realised what a murdering bastard you were and got out before you could off her as well-"

"Oh no, Nikki, don't you see?" Isaac interrupted, flashing her his sharp white teeth, like a shark coming in for the kill. "_She's_ the reason I'm doing this. She made me suffer and didn't even care. I can't make her pay but I can make you pay in her place."

"I don't…"

"All you women are the same. Cold-hearted bitches. I'm going to show you what your abduction has done to the boyfriend you left behind."

Nikki couldn't help it. She let out a hysterical bark of a laugh.

"You can't have done your bloody 'research' very well then, can you?" she said, scathingly, "Because I'm not with anyone. It's just me. On my own. A spinster before her time."

"Oh really?" Isaac asked, unperturbed as he arched an indulgent eyebrow. "Well, I have something that would suggest otherwise. Let me show you."

He walked over to the far corner of the room and Nikki could hear him scuffling about. The squeak of wheels reached her ears and her eyes widened when she saw him wheeling a television set towards her. Baffled, she couldn't help but show her disdain at the situation.

"Are we going to watch a film? If I'd known I would have brought popcorn."

"Oh, you won't want popcorn once you've seen this. In fact, I think it may leave you feeling a little green around the gills."

Parking the mounted television in front of her so it pretty much blocked her view of the rest of the room, he went over to a nearby socket and plugged the device in. Once he'd done that he pressed the 'on' button. Nikki waited for a moment and was about to make a smart comment about investing in a new TV set from the 21st century when the screen sprung into life.

The image was of a room. She guessed it was a bedroom from the double bed that sat in the centre. The duvet was a dark, rich blue and the furnishings around the space were uncluttered and stylish. Nikki deduced it was a male bedroom and she found an uneasy sensation of familiarity squirming in her stomach. Suddenly, the door opened and a figure strode in. It took her a moment to realise who he was but the shock of dark brown hair and strong jaw was unmistakable.

"Harry…" she breathed, horrified. Her gaze flicked briefly to Isaac who said nothing, merely leered at her, and then back. She continued to watch with morbid fascination.

Harry roughly kicked off his shoes and almost knocked over a chair by his dresser as he threw his jacket at it. His movements were rash and jerky and he kept moving, almost pacing, as if he didn't know what to do with himself. Finally, he stopped pacing like a caged lion and dropped onto the edge of the bed. He placed his head in his hands and Nikki saw his broad shoulders shake uncontrollably. He was…crying.

"No!" she gasped, "Stop it! Stop it now!"

She tore her gaze away from the screen and glowered at her captor. He merely smiled at her.

"That's how I was….when she vanished. Inconsolable. I held it together for a few days of course but there's only so long you can rein it in."

"But Harry's not my boyfriend! He's just my friend! Why are you showing me this?"

"So you can witness what your absence does to him. So you can know what my fiancée did to me."

"Stop it! I don't want to see." She kicked out, trying to push the trolley away with her feet. Isaac merely put the brakes on.

"Here's the remote. There are two channels. Both live. I'm giving you the chance to switch between the two. Very generous, I think."

He dropped a heavy object in her lap and then left. His heavy footfalls carrying him up the staircase.

Nikki let the tears fall in earnest once he'd left. Running down her burning cheeks and making them feel sticky and uncomfortable. Every time she tried to wipe them away she would knock her cheekbone with the metal of her handcuffs. Eventually, she just gave up. The television still ran and she tried desperately not to look at it. There was no sound but that just made it all the more disturbing. Occasionally, her gaze would travel back to the screen and she would stare in muted horror at the live video of Harry crying. He was crying over her. He was breaking down over her. She desperately wanted to console him. To do _anything_ to stop the broken sobs that wracked his whole body. It was as if someone was running an electric current through him, zapping him and torturing him.

Eventually, she had to switch channels. First she tried switching the television off but Isaac had foreseen this and covered all the other buttons in thick black duck tape. She only had the choice of two. Flicking over, she was greeted by a familiar view of the conference room. Initially, she wondered how the hell he'd managed to get the cameras into there but she guessed, as an ex-police detective, he had contacts and methods. Her brown eyes scanned the shimmering screen and fell on the hunched figure of Leo who was leaning against the desk, staring intently at the whiteboards in front of him. He looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept in days.

Irrational guilt built inside of her. Her friends were suffering in her absence. She wished they didn't care so much. Then they wouldn't be hurt so badly….especially when she turned up dead…


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note - Thanks for the lovely reviews. Just so you know, reviews do kind of encourage me to write. Alerts are great too but I have to say reviews kind of...well they beat them hands down so PLEASE REVIEW! **

**As for Silent Witness. Phew! Wasn't that dramatic? :D So glad it happened but if it had ended any differently I would not be happy. Unfortunately, it probably means the Harry/Nikki relationship has been knocked back a year or two! Frickin' hell! **

**WARNING: Quite graphic scenes of violence and some swearing. **

Dawn broke across London, tendrils of sunlight crept through the relatively quiet streets: catching a few sodden students staggering home after a raucous night out, leaning on one another for support; brushing the coat-tails of some particularly eager workaholics who wanted to miss morning rush hour and illuminating the dingy russet foxes who were slinking away after a fruitful forage in the last few hours of darkness. Their lamp-like eyes shone in the passing glow of taxi headlights, fur standing on end, pointed shoulder-blades undulating nervously as they backed into the shadows.

A door creaked open on an empty street and a solitary figure padded slowly out, dropping the heavy wooden frame closed behind him. Silently, he took four steady strides down the small flight of steps and found himself on ground level. Turning to his right, he tucked his hands deep into his pockets and braced himself against the strong wind that whistled down the road. After taking a few paces, he paused momentarily to stare at the dark mark that blotted the pavement like an immovable ink stain on a piece of parchment. It hadn't been washed away, even after several scrubs and the considerable rainfall last night. He felt the permanent lump in his throat jump painfully and he had to look away.

With a heavy heart, he skirted around the ghastly reminder of his lost colleague and pressed on down the street. Despite his pace he didn't really have anywhere to go. He was just walking for the sake of walking. Perhaps it was because he couldn't sleep. Perhaps it was because he wanted to take his mind off the horrific possibility of a future without best friend. Perhaps it was because he just wanted to _do _something rather than sit around uselessly.

London was eerily quiet, especially in the backstreets, so he just walked and walked.

He must have covered several miles when he found himself at the university campus. He hadn't been aiming to arrive at the Lyell Centre but he supposed it was the natural place for his feet to take him. A place of familiarity. A place he could trust. But would it be for much longer? Would he ever be able to return if Nikki was brought through those double doors in a black body bag?

Heaving a deep breath, he used his identity pass and slipped through the glass doors into the silent office. There seemed to be no one about. He walked through the empty rooms, his fingers brushing the edge of Nikki's desk, ruffling a few papers and gingerly stroking the jacket she had carelessly left there at one time or other; never thinking for one second she wouldn't return to pick it up.

But _no_. He had to stop. He had to stop thinking like this. Thinking that she was dead. Gone for good. There was still hope. Until they found her still….lifeless…corpse…. Until _then _there was still hope.

The glimmer of a light caught his eye and he realised that someone was in the lab. Momentarily distracted from his black thoughts, he strode purposefully towards the double doors and poked his head inside. His gaze fell upon the pale open body on the dissection table and travelled to the snow-white pathologist who was expertly inspecting the organs for what must be the hundredth time.

"Leo," he said, briefly surprised at how tired his voice sounded.

The silver-haired man looked up, startled, his blue eyes widening when he caught sight of his colleague standing in the doorway looking dishevelled and washed-out. His angular jaw was rough with dark stubble and his eyes were purple and bruised with lack of sleep. Leo guessed he was suffering the same insomnia that he was battling with.

"Harry," Leo greeted him, "What are you doing here?"

Harry offered him a small, weary smile. "The same reason as you, I'm guessing." He jerked his head at the body. "Is that Nancy Roberts?"

"Yeah…" Leo sighed, taking a step back.

"You found anything?" Harry asked but knew from his friend's tone what the answer would be.

As predicted, Leo shook his head sadly. "Nothing. _Again_. I just don't understand it."

"Me either. Look, I'll come join you."

"No, Harry," Leo protested, affecting the stance and voice of a chastising schoolteacher, "You should go home."

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Leo, does it _really _look like I'll be going home any time soon?"

"I guess not but there's not much productive we can do here."

"There's not much productive for me to do at home either apart from wallowing in hopeless misery and how the hell does _that _help anyone, Leo?" There was an edge to his tone, borne from a mixture of fear, anger and helplessness.

Leo swiftly quelled the bubbling emotions, holding up his gloved hands. "All right. All right. Go get changed."

Harry nodded once, the muscle in his jaw flexing, and disappeared from the doorway. He returned just a few minutes later, clad head to toe in white scrubs. The colour just made him look even more deathly in complexion, emphasising the darkness of his inky eyes.

"Right…" he said, attempting to throw himself into work in the hope of alleviating some of his internal pain, "Shall we go back to the basics? Maybe we've missed something simple?"

"Yes. Of course," Leo agreed, a little reluctantly because he was fairly certain they wouldn't find anything more. However, he couldn't quash the hope that seemed to have rekindled slightly in Harry's eyes; the spark he got from burying himself in pathology.

* * *

"Harry….Harry? That's it. We've checked everything. We've run all the tests….we've…Harry, are you okay?"

Leo tailed off, seeing that his colleague still hadn't looked up from the bloody guts of Nancy's body. His whole frame was as rigid as a statue. Unmoving. Frozen in place. His palms were pressed hard onto the edge of the metal dissection table – the ridge undoubtedly digging painfully into his hand – and his tendons stood out on his arms like thick ropes, weaving an uneven path beneath his pale skin. His blue eyes stared unseeingly in front of him.

"Harry?"

Suddenly Harry burst into life like someone had flicked a switch within him. Leo could almost feel the raw energy emanating from him as Harry pushed himself off the trolley and lurched away, placing his hands behind his head, raking long frenetic fingers through messy hair.

"Leo…. I can't….this can't be it….there has to be more…we have to do _something_…"

"Harry," Leo began, sympathetically, reaching out towards him.

"No…." Harry brushed the hand away. "This isn't it. It can't be. We must have missed something."

"We haven't."

"If we don't find anything then Nikki will be murdered!" Harry yelled. The explosion of emotion was almost tangible.

Leo frowned, feeling his mask of calmness slip a little. "Don't you think I know that, Harry? Don't you think I _want _there to be something for us to find? But we have to face facts! We can't just conjure up evidence! It doesn't work like that. You know that better than anyone Harry. You're a pathologist for crying out loud!"

"And what's the bloody use in that?" Harry cried, throwing his hands into the air and shouting almost hysterically at Leo. There was a manic glint in his blue-grey eyes. "Oh _joy_! We can cut her open when she turns up here, can't we Leo? Us _wonderful _pathologists! Then we can work out how exactly she died; how long she's been dead; whether she's been horrifically tortured; _raped_. Won't it be fantastic to know _exactly _how much she fucking suffered? I'll be able to hold her cold, dead heart in my hands and tell you…"

"STOP IT!" Leo bellowed, unable to take anymore, "Just STOP!"

Seeing his friend's tortured expression, Harry fell silent but he still shook uncontrollably. He was like a smouldering volcano, ready to erupt again at any moment; only held at bay out of consideration for Leo's feelings. The other man seemed relieved that he'd stopped but also deeply hurt by his words. They'd obvious hit him hard and Harry couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty. However, he couldn't help how _he_ felt. What he believed. He couldn't help the thoughts that darkened his mind every second of the day. He couldn't help the picture that he'd already conjured up of Nikki, lying on a slab, ready for a post-mortem; and then the feeling of the sharp tip of his scalpel sinking into her soft, pale skin….

Not that he'd be allowed to actually do it. Neither of them would. They were too close. Even so, he could still imagine it as vividly as if it was real and Nikki's naked corpse lay on the table rather than Nancy Roberts'. Her beautiful brown eyes closed forever more.

"I'm sorry," he said, quietly, and walked out.

Leo didn't stop him. He was still reeling from his earlier words.

* * *

A figure burst onto the screen and took Nikki by surprise. She hadn't been expecting that. Both the conference room and Harry's bedroom had been empty for hours. Through the night she'd watched Harry toss and turn, battling to overcome to barrier so he could fall into painless sleep. She was unable to tear her gaze away from him. She just watched, sickened and yet strangely enraptured by this psychological torture that Isaac was impressing on her. When Harry had left his room in the early hours, she'd assumed he would come back but he never did. And thus she was left feeling rather alone. Having her best friend on the screen – although awful – was also kind of comforting. It disgusted her to admit this as she could see how much Harry was suffering but to know he was safe and well and alive was a relief for her. Even when she died, she knew he would carry living and that filled her with a warm glow of happiness; this was only darkened by the fact that she knew she wouldn't be there with him, laughing at his stupid jokes, helping him annoy the hell out of Leo and generally loving him as a friend and, if they'd had time, maybe something more…

That thought had always been at the back of her mind. A small, fragile creature tucked away, hibernating, waiting to come out and test the waters. It had almost taken the plunge once…but then that opportunity had been cruelly whipped away and the small, delicate creature had retreated back into its burrow feeling spurned and betrayed. She didn't know whether it would ever have the bravery or strength to try a second time. Well, now she would never know.

Immediately, she registered that the man was Harry and he was dressed in white scrubs. That was definitely against protocol so something must have happened for him to have done such a thing. He seemed to be panting and running frantic hands through his dark, ruffled locks. Then he kneaded his knuckles into his forehead in a way that didn't look at all pleasant or painless. Staring intently, she saw his mouth moving. He was talking, muttering, to himself. She desperately wished she knew what he was saying.

Trying to move closer to see his face in closer detail, she heard the clatter of her handcuffs and let out a small groan when she realised she was still attached to the piping hot radiator. How could she have forgotten? Then again, she supposed she was enduring the pain now. She had forced her way through the pain barrier and was staying on her safe little pain-free island. A sea of pain still lapped at her sandy shores, patiently waiting to overwhelm her, but she held it at bay – just.

Suddenly, the door up above creaked open and Nikki closed her eyes. She stopped breathing, as if by falling _completely _silent he might just go away.

He didn't.

The telltale _stomp, stomp, stomp _of his shoes accompanied his descent and soon she knew he was on ground level. On her level. She tried desperately not to make a noise. To not look up. Somehow she convinced herself that if she looked up then he would win and he would be free to do what he liked with her. Somehow she knew that if she caved to him and he thought he had broken her then he would kill her. His interest in her would be lost.

"Good morning, Nikki," he intoned, charmingly. "How are you doing? Hmm…?"

She kept quiet.

"Nothing to say on the matter? Well, that's a shame. I'll tell you a bit about what's going on with me then, shall I?" He pushed the television away and sat down in front of her, cross-legged. Nikki felt a strange sensation of loss when she could no longer see Harry. "The weather's pretty awful. Dreary and cold and wet. I didn't really fancy going out so I thought I'd spend some quality time down here with you. I mean what's the point in having my own personal victim and not making the most of her time here? What a very ungracious captor I am. The least I can do is treat you to the full experience during your short visit."

Nikki's throat went dry with fear.

"Now, I suppose you know what's going to happen next. I guess that's a bit boring for you. Maybe I'll have to spice things up a bit."

As he spoke, Nikki caught sight of something glinting behind his back and she felt her heart plummet at lightning speed. The sharp tip of the knife peeked out just beyond the shield of his body and she had to forcibly stop herself from letting out a small, desperate whimper. Her breaths were coming in short gasps now though as the horrific tension built.

"Please," she heard herself murmur, pitifully, and she hated herself for it. She wished she was strong enough not to beg for mercy from her killer. "Please…"

Isaac ignored her. Instead, he caught her slender legs and pulled her away from the radiator slightly, jarring her wrists. She hissed and struggled like a spitting cat, desperate to escape. However his grip was unyielding. She squirmed some more but to no avail. The thud of her heart echoed in her ears.

"No! Please!"

With rough fingers, he pulled up her blouse that was sticky and damp with sweat, and revealed her smooth stomach. He kept pulling the supple material up until it had gathered above her bra. She felt so vulnerable and violated and terrified out of her mind about what he was about to do to her.

"_Stop _wriggling," he ordered, sharply.

Suddenly, he held the knife above her skin and she froze immediately, entranced by the deadly point hovering millimetres from her soft body. Leaning over her until he was practically sat on her ankles to stop her moving he leered nastily in her face, so close she could smell stale coffee on his breath. Her nose wrinkled but – really - bad breath was the least of her problems. Rough stubble grazed her cheek and she quivered like a frightened sparrow, unable to move. She could feel his lips on her neck, moist and warm.

"Please…" she whispered, desperately, one last time.

"You like it really you dirty bitch," Isaac replied. She felt the gust of breath on her skin and she felt the curve of his lewd smile against her neck. She felt sick.

Nikki struggled a little but suddenly she felt a sharp pain in-between her ribs. She gasped in pain and surprise. Looking down she saw the point of the knife was embedded just below the surface of her skin.

"See, that's what you get if you don't cooperate," Isaac warned, maliciously, still kissing her neck.

Gently as a caress, he drew the knife down the curve of her rib, leaving a dribbling red line in its wake. Nikki winced but managed to make no noise. He was as careful and precise as an artist as he added three more lines to her chest, tracing her ribs. Rivulets of crimson blood slipped down her skin - almost like water - following the ridges of her ribcage until they dropped one by one onto the concrete ground beneath. She screwed up her eyes and endured. She _had _to endure. He _couldn't _break her. Otherwise she would die.

* * *

Harry sat at his desk staring at nothing in particular. His eyes wandered over the reports that had accumulated over the last few days with disinterest. A half-drunk, now cold, cup of tea stood to his right. The mug was a gift from Nikki and it read: _If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong. _Apparently it summed his attitude 'with unbelievable accuracy'. They'd laughed about it for ages. It was a running joke. The whole office was full of reminders of Nikki; of all the brilliant times they'd spent together.

Sighing, he tapped his pen against the edge of the keyboard and jumped when the phone suddenly rang. Frowning, Harry glanced at his watch. It was only just six o'clock. That meant this must be a call-out or an emergency. No one else would bother calling so early.

Tentatively, he picked up the phone.

"Hullo," he said, feeling his heart rate increase, "This is Dr. Harry Cunningham."

"Good morning, Dr. Cunningham," the voice said in a grave tone, "We've found a body."

And there, just at that exact moment, Harry's world stopped turning on its axis.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note - Oh me gooosh! Thank you so, so, so much for the reviews! Its lovely to know you're enjoying it. You see they do spur me on! You wouldn't have got this chapter so quickly otherwise. :D **

"They don't know if it's her. It's a woman though, in her thirties," Harry said, a lump forming in his throat as he hastily grabbed his coat and keys. "Her face is too …disfigured for them to make an accurate identification."

He moved rapidly, taking great strides towards the door. Leo caught his arm, bringing him to an abrupt and very unwanted halt. Harry threw a glare over his shoulder, trying to break free.

"Harry! You shouldn't go! _Neither _of us should be going!"

"Are you really going to stop me?" Harry challenged, his blue eyes icy. Leo gaped for a few moments, opening and closing his mouth uselessly before releasing his grip. "I thought not." He resumed his charge towards the exit.

"I'm coming with you though, Harry, you're not doing this alone." The older pathologist grabbed his own jacket, following his colleague's swiftly disappearing figure.

* * *

The white tent stood in the middle of the park, a snowy mountain shimmering in the glow from a few orange lamp-posts that stood at intervals along the winding gravel path. It was barely visible on this dim, misty January morning. Several fluorescent-coated police officers hovered around outside along with a large ambulance that would take the body straight to the morgue when the scene of the crime had been inspected. The surface of a nearby duck pond glistened in the artificial headlights of a couple of police cars. Several tawny ducks quacked nervously and proceeded to take to the skies in a flurry of feathery wings.

Harry's breath misted the air as he strode purposefully down the path, his feet crunching on the stones beneath. The atmosphere was deathly quiet.

Beside him, Leo had to take equally large paces in order to keep up with his friend's hurried gait. He was panting because he certainly wasn't as fit as he used to be and at this point Harry was practically jogging, his long coat sprawling out behind him. Fleetingly, Leo thought he looked a little like Sherlock Holmes or some equally determined character from a detective novel – unfortunately, he had to remind himself that this was no story so there might not be a happy ending, this was real life and it had a nasty habit of ending badly. However, all these thoughts were wiped clean from his head as he caught sight of the imposing, broad-shoulder silhouette of DCI Tarrant, Harry's arch-nemesis. Leo had to admit even he didn't like him that much. The detective stepped out of the shadows and Leo saw the grim line of his mouth, the crease between his bushy eyebrows. His heart faltered.

Suddenly, he became very aware of Harry slowing down beside him, stumbling to a halt. The other man doubled over, his hands planted firmly on his knees.

"Christ, Christ, _Christ_…." Harry breathed, frantically, desperately, "I can't do this….I can't!"

Leo glanced at his friend and saw his eyes were wide with fear. There was the look of a trapped, wild animal about him. He was hyperventilating, breaths coming in short rasping gasps like someone was sucking the life out of him.

"I can't. Leo, I can't _breathe_." Harry staggered, tears streaming down his cheeks as he dropped to his knees on the sodden ground, feeling the wetness immediately seep into his jeans, soaking the heavy material.

Everything just felt wrong. He felt sort of disconnected from his body, like he was floating somewhere nearby and time seemed to be going so slowly around him. Leo was moving towards him in really bad slow-motion, like he was in one of those really old, cheesy action movies. His mouth was moving and Harry guessed he was forming words but for the life of him he could understand what was being said. It was almost as if he was underwater, eerie and deathly quiet. Shapes began to distort, blurring together until they were merely circles or squares of colour like a child's drawing.

His heart thudded loudly and much too quickly in every pore of his body, as if a thousand tiny people were beating the inside of his skin like a drum. His chest felt tight and his fingers tingled though he was barely aware of them due to the coldness that was seeping through him. Someone was holding him in strong arms; he could feel himself shaking uncontrollably in their grip, his cold sweat seeping into their clothes and onto their skin. He wanted to be sick as his insides twisted violently.

Hot, sulphurous liquid scoured the inside of his throat and spewed onto the damp grass.

Suddenly, everything snapped back to real time, like he'd broken the surface and was no longer drowning.

"He's having a panic attack." Leo's brisk voice was the first thing he heard. "Can you get me some water and a blanket?"

He must be speaking to someone else, Harry thought vaguely.

"Harry? Harry, can you hear me? Breathe slowly." His tone was calm and soothing. Harry looked up to see his concerned blue eyes staring down. A gentle hand was rubbing his back. Leo instantly noticed his lucidity and offered a comforting half-smile. It was all he could muster given the current situation. "Ah, you're back with us, Harry. How're you feeling? You had a panic attack."

"Shit," he murmured, feeling exhausted and wrung-out, "But that's got nothing to do with the panic attack."

The young pathologist had suddenly remembered what had caused him to have the panic attack in the first place. It was the sight of the forensic tent. The white, looming beacon that could cover the body of the woman he… he loved with all his heart; who he couldn't bear to lose. Struggling abruptly to his feet, his hand only just avoiding the steaming puddle of sick he'd created moments ago, he staggered woozily towards the entrance to the tent. Several police officers looked at him warily, probably wondering what was wrong with him and whether he'd vomit all over them. If he'd had the energy he would have glared daggers at them. As it was, he just focussed on ignoring his light-headedness in an effort not to keel over.

"Hey, hey! Harry!" Leo protested, catching up with him and offering him support. Harry gratefully took it. "I really don't think this is a good idea."

Harry merely grunted.

People stepped out of the way as the two of them entered. A flash of a forensic camera almost blinded Harry in his dazed state but he pressed on, determined to see whether he would be saying good bye to his best friend for good. Someone was blocking his eye-line but as soon as they moved out of the way he could see her face…

The bile rose in his throat again and he had to stumble backwards, trying to get outside but bumping into Leo in the process. He didn't have time to escape so he ended up throwing up in the corner. That would certainly be frowned upon but frankly he didn't give a shit, he just wanted to collapse and curl up in a ball.

"It's not her…." Leo's dulcet tones penetrated his muggy brain.

"I know," Harry murmured, dully, "But it will be next time."

* * *

_Three days later…_

Nikki gathered her knees closer to her blood-stained chest as she heard the familiar creak of the door opening and saw the shaft of light stream though, highlighting the far wall. Her heart rate increased rapidly, like a caged bird fluttering, terrified, in its cage as the cat got its deadly paw inside. Would this be it? Would this be the last time? She didn't know. She had no idea how long he planned to keep her. All she knew was that he would torture her again, making every single cell in her body scream in pain. The thought of the upcoming agony rose gooseflesh on her thin arms. The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled uncomfortably.

_Stomp, stomp, stomp. _

Her heart was racing now and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her entire frame was pressed tightly against the radiator, trying to escape but having nowhere to go. Her skin burned fiercely but she didn't care.

"Nikki! How good to see you on such a beautiful day! As always, I'll give you a little update as to what is going on up-top."

He switched on the light as he spoke, the single bulb in the ceiling casting a harsh, white light on everything below. Nikki winced, her eyes following his path towards her. He was slow and calculating, practically sauntering. He was the predator; she was the prey. The cat and the caged, helpless bird.

"It snowed last night. Everything is lovely and white this morning. _Breath-taking. _It's a shame you have to miss it really. You'll never to get to see the beauty of a snow fall again, will you? Such a sad thought. Then again, snow isn't really my favourite weather. What's your opinion?"

Nikki didn't give him the satisfaction of replying.

"Well, anyway, onto other news. You know that decoy body I told you about? Yes. Well, I thoroughly enjoyed the reaction it produced. I said I'd spice things up! Then again, you probably saw too. On your trusty little CCTV. Doesn't it make things a whole lot more fun to watch things going on? Personally, I think people's reactions are the best bit. I don't know why more serial killers don't invest in video footage. The _anger_, the _shock_, the _heart-break_….its all just so much _fun_. Why watch TV or go to the theatre when you can watch _proper_ drama like this?"

Nikki scowled, breaking her code of silence as she hissed, "You have no idea how insane you sound, do you? You sick, twisted bastard."

"She speaks. I've missed your beautiful tones, Nikki, I really have." Isaac smirked. "Do you fancy having a little chat or shall we get down to business?"

In all honesty, Nikki didn't know which was worse: listening to him talk about all his distorted ideals: how he'd tortured each of his previous victims, how he'd come up with creative ideas for their murders, how he liked to hide nearby and watch the first person discover the body...or having him torture her.

"You know what; I'll make the decision for you, shall I? I'm feeling a little dirty…" A nasty smile curled his lips.

He prowled towards her and Nikki suddenly knew – with absolute, terrifying certainty – that this time he was going to rape her. He hadn't yet. He'd never got past the kissing stage but she'd been waiting with dread for the time when he wanted to take it a step further. Really, it didn't come as a surprise because she knew exactly what he'd done to the other victims. However, that didn't make her any less scared and any less willing to fight to avoid it.

As soon as he started kissing her neck this time, Nikki bucked in earnest, desperate to dislodge him, to put him off. Initially, it worked and he was thrown off her. Both of them seemed surprised by her unexpected strength but Isaac swiftly recollected himself.

"I wouldn't do that again if I were you, bitch," he growled.

Like he had the first time, he leant on her ankle. She struggled and he pressed harder. And there was an _excruciating_, sickening _crack_. Nikki let out a scream of unconcealed pain, her mouth ripped open in an agonised 'o'. Tears leapt from her eyes and poured down her hot cheeks as the painful sensation enveloped her whole ankle in a searing, inescapable heat.

Her slender frame shuddered violently as she struggled to control the sobbing and Isaac pulled back and stared at her in disgust. His nose was twisted into a sneer of contempt.

"Well, that's certainly a turn off," he stated, disdainfully, pushing himself on her. "I think we'll leave it there."

With that, he left, leaving Nikki in a trembling, pain-ridden heap on the floor.

* * *

"How _dare _they print this about her?"

"It's the press. They'll do anything to make a good story, Harry, you know that," Leo said, attempting to soothe him.

However, his friend was having none of it. He was glaring at the newspaper in his hands with Nikki's striking image printed on the front. She stared out with those owl-like brown eyes and Leo found he couldn't look at the photograph for too long. It hurt too much to bear.

"They shouldn't be allowed! Everyone shouldn't know her personal business. They don't need to know about her father. Her childhood. About her relationships with us. And where the hell do they get off mentioning about her previous cases as a pathologist? Are they really suggesting she attracts trouble because of her career? Utter bastards! Pathologists aren't fucking spies! We don't 'risk tragedies like this happening because of our work'."

"It's a trashy paper, Harry. Ignore it."

Deftly, Leo plucked the tabloid from his colleague's outraged grasps just in time for DCI Tarrant to knock on the door and pop his head into the conference room. Great, Leo thought with a sigh, just what they needed; another thing to wind Harry up.

"Dr. Dalton, Dr. Cunningham," the detective nodded at them both, "I'm sorry to say I've come as the bearer of damn bad news. That lead we had from Lisa Faldren's body? It's a dead end."

"_No_!" Harry shouted, frustrated at the loss of another clue. He picked up the nearest object – his phone - and launching it across the room in anger.

It connected with the shelves on the opposite wall with a loud crash and a shower of detritus cascaded onto the floor. Both Leo and the detective stared at him, a little stunned by his outburst. Well, Leo was less surprised; he was getting quite used to Harry's violent mood swings by now. He knew it was just a way to outlet emotions and he didn't mind that too much, as long as Harry only took his anger out on objects rather than human beings. He didn't like to think what would happen if someone got on the wrong end of one of the young pathologist's fiery rampages. It would be carnage.

"Harry," he admonished, uncrossing his arms and shaking his head. This reaction was more for the benefit of the DCI than anything. He had to be seen to be in control, even if he was feeling just as anguished and lost as his bereft colleague. Otherwise they would both be removed from the case entirely.

"Quite a temper you've got there, Dr Cunningham. I'd watch it in future if I were you," DCI Tarrant warned, coolly.

Harry refrained from retorting. It would do him no good in the long run. Instead, he fought to regain his breath and looked towards Leo, grounding himself with the help of his friend's soft, solemn blue eyes.

"I'll tidy this up, shall I?" he said, trying to appear calm, in control.

"I think that would be a good idea, Harry," Leo agreed, quietly.

The senior pathologist returned to his conversation with DCI Tarrant and Harry walked around the desk to the other side of the conference room. Once there, he crouched down and began sifting through the mess he'd made. There was a bit of glass from a broken frame that contained some award that the Lyell Centre pathology lab had been given and a small model skeleton that Harry recognised from where it used to reside on Leo's desk. A hockey ball had fallen down too and rolled slightly across the carpet. Harry couldn't help the small, sad smile that crept onto his lips as he remembered how Nikki had solved her first unofficial case with this ball and a hockey stick. He reckoned his love for her and her intelligence and her quirkiness had begun even as early as that as they tried fruitlessly to hit the human target. His smile grew as he recalled her whoop of triumph as she smacked the red spot.

So lost was he in his thoughts that when his fingers brushed a small, strange black device he almost missed it. However, a nearby shard of glass caught the soft ridge of his knuckle and he looked down with a hiss of pain, surprised, catching sight of the unfamiliar object immediately. Gently, he scooped it up and stared at it. It seemed to have a lens of some kind. Was it a camera?

Instantly, he was on his feet.

"Leo!"

Both the other men turned to look at him, their gazes focusing on the small device that he held between his thumb and forefinger.

"What is it Harry?" Leo asked, curiously, taking a step closer.

However, DCI Tarrant beat him to it, catching the object from Harry's hands and ignoring his defiant protests. "That's a high-tech camera."

"I gathered that" Harry replied, acidly.

"No. I mean _really _high-tech. CID can only get hold of these bad boys for really important, undercover operations. They're secret service level cameras."

"What?" Leo frowned, visibly perturbed. "Why would MI5 be bugging us?"

"They wouldn't be," Tarrant replied, swiftly, his eyes lighting up with excitement, "That's the point. We would know if they were."

"So who...?" Leo began but was interrupted by Harry.

"The kidnapper!" He looked a little stunned.

Leo's expression morphed into one of disbelief tinged with hope. "Do you really think...?"

"It's definitely possible."

"God," Leo breathed, staring at the tiny piece of technology. It could be just the clue they'd be desperately trying to find. "And it's just been sitting there? What have they got to gain from that?"

"I don't know but only a select few people can get hold of these. It may help track down our killer." Tarrant headed for the door. "If you hear anything else and make sure you get in touch immediately. Got it?"

"Of course," Leo agreed, glancing at his colleague who still seemed a little shell-shocked at the revelation.

The detective left, his long coat swirling out behind him.

"I never thought I'd say it, Harry, but for once I'm glad of your temper," Leo stated, glancing at his colleague. He blew air into his cheeks, allowing it to escape a moment later in a long stream. Slowly, he ran a trembling hand through his silver hair.

Harry looked at him, blinking slowly. "They've been watching us Leo." He paused. "_Why _would they be watching us?"

"Um...I'm not entirely sure. To know how far we are with the case? To watch us struggle to catch him? So he'll be warned if we start to catch on? It could be for any number of reasons, Harry," Leo admitted, scratching his head.

"But how did it get in here? Who would have put it there? It must have been someone with access to the Lyell Centre." Harry thought back, the cogs in his brains rapidly turning. He began pacing, the movement aiding his thought processes. "There hasn't been anyone different from normal. Between us, we've been here almost the whole time since Nikki's disappearance. But wait….I'm missing something…."

Leo frowned, watching his friend's erratic movements. "What, Harry?"

Harry snapped his fingers abruptly. "_That _boy!"

**Wahey, wasn't that exciting? Did ya think the dead body was Nikki for a moment there? :D **


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note - Thanks for the reviews! They were very much loved! :D Keep reviewing though! Pleeeeeease! **

**On the topic of Silent Witness, so passes another freakin' series and no Harry/Nikki! I can't believe it! Sometimes I just want to SCREAM at the television! Argh! **

Harry dashed from the room and Leo could only trail after him, deeply confused by his friend's inexplicable behaviour. He couldn't recall the boy that his friend was referring too and so was left wondering what on earth he was on about. Striding into the office, he caught sight of Harry throwing himself eagerly into his chair before immediately grabbing the mouse of his computer. His finger clicked repeatedly as he opened a file and several search engines.

"What are you…?" Leo began, his eyebrows knitting together in bewilderment. He was rewarded a brief glance for his half-question. "Harry?"

"I'm looking into the student database…._shit_!" Harry cursed but didn't look up again. Suddenly he thrust out a hand, gesturing for Leo to come closer. Tentatively, the man complied. "I need your password! Leo, give me your password."

"A please would be nice," Leo commented, sharply, but complied.

"I don't have time!" Harry brushed him off like an inconsequential fly. "_She _doesn't have time."

"What do you know, Harry?"

"There was that boy who came a few days ago, to check out our network…" As he spoke, the younger pathologist typed rapidly, his grey-blue eyes focussed intently on the glowing screen. "He was acting very suspiciously _and _we'd never seen him before."

"That doesn't mean anything, Harry," Leo replied, realising that the speedily firing neurones in his friend's very able but very emotional brain were jumping to conclusions. He couldn't merely draw links between visitors and the killer. "He had an ID pass. He was _allowed _to be here."

"Exactly! Hence the fact I believe him to be a student at this university!" Harry missed his point completely. "How else would he have got in?"

Leo paced slowly around the desk - considering Harry's idea - the soft thud of his shoes echoing in his ears, accompanied by the jarring tap of the keyboard. He knew he had to be the method in Harry's spates of madness. The steady one. The sensible one. The protector. This was not always the case but – as boss, mentor and surrogate father – it was his job to stay in control and look after his friends. With Nikki missing he was certainly going to do his very best to keep Harry out of danger and, hopefully, sane.

Quickly, he pointed out: "It could have been _anybody_, Harry! Why him? You _know _it's just because you _want_ it to be him. I understand that but it won't help matters if you just go around pointing the fingers will it? You have to wait for DCI Tarrant to run some enquiries into who has access to those cameras. Just _calm _down. Okay?"

Suddenly, Harry looked up, his eyes wide with horror. Leo felt his heart thud a little faster.

"Oh god, Leo, I just realised something," he breathed. There was a momentary, shocked lapse in his frantic typing. "There was a man….in my apartment…."

"What man?" Leo looked perplexed. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Harry rubbed a shaking hand over the shadowy stubble on his chin before abruptly spitting out, "Fuck!"

Leo jumped, taken aback.

"Fuck!" Harry repeated, as he stared straight at his boss, "There was a man. He pretended to be an electrician. I thought he was a thief but he didn't…he didn't _steal _anything, Leo. And there was this deliberately cut wire…"

"Wait, when did this happen?" Leo interrupted, his face a mixture of concern and incredulity. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell the bloody _police_, Harry?"

"I didn't think it was important! But he could have planted a camera right there in my apartment…." His eyes widened even further until they were like dinner plates. "In my _bedroom_! The bastard!"

Looking severely shocked, Leo turned away to leave, pausing briefly to declare: "Right, I'm telling Tarrant about this. Just like _you _should have when it happened." He then marched into his office to phone the detective. He couldn't believe his colleague had been so stupid as to ignore what could have been a vital clue in the investigation.

Five minutes later he returned and Harry was gone.

Internally, he cursed, especially when he caught sight of the screen which Harry had left on. A portrait photograph of a greasy-haired youth with a ferocious outbreak of acne across his nose and black glasses stared out at him with nervous eyes. Beside the face was a list of details: name, address, D.O.B, course he was studying – computing. A flash of recognition passed through Leo and he found he did vaguely recall the boy that Harry was talking about. They had left him alone in the conference room, free to do whatever he wanted…

His heart pounding, Leo realised that Harry was heading out on a man-hunt – alone. Quick as a fleet-footed deer, he performed a complete round turn and hurried back to his office where he immediately called DCI Tarrant. He swiftly supplied the detective with the details of the student and urged them to get to the boy before Harry did because there was no knowing what he might do. Leo remembered the red curtain of rage that seemed to blinker Harry's vision whenever he became violent and shuddered worriedly.

* * *

Pain was assaulting her from all directions. Before now, she had believed that one could – with an iron will – ignore pain and keep it at bay. She had even naively believed that a person could only focus on one agony at a time without being overwhelmed but, she found now, she was completely and utterly wrong. Every pore of her body ached. Her cells in her ankle _screamed _bloody murder at her. The tender wounds on her chest _seared _with excruciating white-hot pain every time she moved. Even the burning agony of the radiator had come back, coupled with her pounding headache borne from dehydration and the voraciously rumbling stomach. She wanted to escape. In fact, death didn't seem like such an unappealing option now.

Frustratingly, there was nothing she could do about her leg. She was positive that Isaac had snapped the bone but she couldn't ascertain how badly and she certainly couldn't go about resetting it with her hands constrained by her harsh metal handcuffs. If she left it long enough it would fuse itself back together in the wrong place and she would probably never get full mobility back. Well, she thought bleakly, there wasn't much point in thinking about the future when she didn't even know if she would survive today. Isaac's black mood was persisting and she was petrified of the possibility of him losing interest and patience in her and killing her.

Her tears – the few that she could shed despite her severe dehydration - had long since dried up; cruelly evaporated by the incessant heat from the radiator. All she had to show for them were the salty snail trails crusted on her russet cheeks. Her whole body was shrivelling with lack of water. Perhaps, she thought darkly, she would even fulfil her belief that she would become a raisin, withered and shrivelled and alone in her death.

The only thing that kept her going - that was the light in her otherwise very miserable existence - was the video tapes. The device that Isaac was using as a method of torture was actually what she strived to live for – those little glimpses of Harry and Leo. They reminded her that people loved her and cared for her. She even selfishly thought about how devastated they would be when they found her body. Morbidly, it made her happy to believe at least someone would care that she was gone from the world and that she wouldn't just disperse into the air like a plume of smoke, spreading so far away that she was no more than an echo of someone who used to exist, not even kept alive in memories. Occasionally, in her blackest, loneliest moments she would imagine their faces at her post-mortem, at her funeral: distraught, angry, grieving… Well, that's how she imagined them though she knew her friends and knew that they would probably not react like that. Leo would be passive and solemn on the outside but experiencing an inner pain that he would keep to himself. And Harry…Nikki wasn't exactly sure how her best friend would react upon news of her death but she liked to believe he would be angry, upset. Knowing Harry he would probably want revenge but she hoped he wouldn't seek it – she hoped Leo would have the strength to curtail any stupid crimes Harry might commit in her honour – and she really, desperately, hoped that he would move on with his life. She liked to imagine him with a family. Happy. He definitely deserved it.

_But don't you deserve it too? _A little voice would call from the back of her mind. She hadn't had a chance to live her life. Not really. She'd never settled. Well, not until she came to the Lyell Centre. And all she had to show for her life was an endless trail of ill-considered, utterly disastrous relationships and a few thousand signatures on post-mortem reports. How could she have allowed her life to go to waste? To float by without her realising until it was too late? A sick feeling in the pit of her stomach formed whenever she thought about how empty her life story was – well, empty of happy memories at least. She had always been planning to form some joyous memories but she'd….she'd just never had the time. She'd been saving up and focusing on her career. Of course, like most women, she'd wanted a gorgeous, loving husband; kids; but she'd waited. Waited too bloody long.

If she had a second chance, if she could do things all over again, she would lead a different life…

_No. _That was a lie. She couldn't even consider a life without Harry and Leo in it. She could never sacrifice them, even to have a family. They _were _her family. She just wished she could have coupled both her dreams together, knitted them until they were securely entwined. Perhaps she could have, one day, but now she would never know.

* * *

"Tell me! You bastard!"

Spittle flew from Harry's lips as he violently jammed the smaller man up against the brick wall, rubbing his spine against the rough stone. His captive hissed in pain, his eyes wide and watery behind his glasses as he stared into the fiery rage that consumed Harry's glare. He was quaking beneath his assailant's vice-like grip. Occasionally, his terrified gaze would flicker hopefully to the far end of the alley, searching desperately for someone to intervene and save him.

"Tell me!" Harry roared, thudding the man's back on the hard surface again.

"I've already told you!" he squeaked, distressed, "I don't have her! I'm not the murderer or the kidnapper."

"Well, you certainly put the camera in our offices, didn't you?" Harry growled, right up in the youngster's face, "Didn't you, you little _rat_?"

"I…I don't know what you're talking about…."

"_Don't _lie!" Harry whacked him again. "You're treading on very thin ice here! I'll give you one last chance but if you blow it then I can't say I'm responsible for my actions." The last sentence he spoke slowly and with the utmost sincerity. The Adam's apple in his victim's throat bounced precariously. There was no doubting Harry's barely veiled threat.

"Okay….okay!" the boy caved, "I did put a camera in your building! I'm sorry, okay?"

Harry leapt on the admittance like a dog on a bone – determined to tear every last shred of detail from him now he had his jaws sunken in. "And who told you to do it, Marty?"

Marty's lip quivered. "I can't…I can't tell you. He'd kill me. He knows people."

"Marty…" Harry began quietly, drawing him closer. They were so close that the stubble on his chin scratched the boy's clean-shaven cheek. "Listen very, very carefully." His voice was so low now that Marty had to strain to hear. However, he was speaking very slowly, enunciating every word to make sure the message had full impact. "If you don't tell me who he is then _I'll _kill you myself. Right here. Right now." The anger and desperation in his stormy eyes backed up his claim. "Whereas if you tell me his name then I'll go and _kill_ him before he even has the _chance _to kill you. Do you understand?"

There was a nervous nod on Marty's part.

"Good. Now tell me who has Nikki."

* * *

There was a flurry of activity in the research department of the CID as DS Rita Crawley came across a piece of information that would change her career for ever. She had been demoted to research duty on the case of London's Lost Girls even when there were a million other more interesting jobs she could be doing. For example, her colleague DS Lee Lundy was currently out on an estate somewhere following a lead on a completely different much more exciting case involving stolen firearms. Initially, the Guv had informed her that she needed to search through over five hundred names of people who had access to these high-tech cameras and then he'd rushed in about twenty minutes ago demanding she ran the details of a young man by the name of Martin Hunter through the database. Both searches had seemed very boring but, clutching the piece of paper in her hand, she realised what a very important discovery she had made.

"Guv, we've found him!" she crowed, excitedly. The dark-haired man looked up, appraising her momentarily. She faltered for a second but soon regained momentum.

"Found who?"

"The kidnapper, murderer or whatever the hell you want to call him!"

The DCI looked unconvinced. "You have? How?"

"I ran the kid through our criminal database. He has previous for drug dealing etc. but it seemed we used him as an informer at some point."

"Okay, get to the point Crawley!" Tarrant ordered, impatiently.

"Oh, yes, right!" Rita continued, blushing crimson and looking flustered. She was ruining her big moment! "He was an informer to DI Webster, sir!"

"DI _Isaac _Webster? The one who quit because his girlfriend made a fool of him?"

"Yes!" Rita said, her eyes shining with triumph. "And he's on the list! The list of people with access to the cameras. And he has the experience and knowledge of the police force and forensics to carry out these murders! It has to be him!"

"Have you got his address?"

"Yes, Guv."

"Well, what the _hell _are you waiting for? We need to get to his house as quickly as possible. By some miracle, Dr. Alexander might still be alive."

* * *

The house was unassuming, standing in a uniform line of old Victorian terraced houses. It was a ruddy red in colour and seemed well maintained. Not that you could judge whether a house contained a murder just by looking at it. Even so, you wouldn't walk by such a place and ever even consider the possibility of anyone more than ordinary living there. The gables were painted a crisp white and there was well pruned rose bush peppered in snow standing near the doorstep. A black bike leant against the wall of the porch. It was a typical London house.

However, these ordinary features barely registered in Harry's mind as he skidded to a semi-halt outside the front door and considered, briefly, the pros and cons of knocking. Eventually, he decided against the civil approach – this was a killer after all – and elected to try the handle. Astonishingly, it was unlocked. Hardly able to believe his luck, Harry shoved open the door and hurried inside. His boots thumped softly on the well-placed mat in the doorway. If possible, he really didn't want the murderer to hear him coming. Then he could catch him unawares.

With a tremulous heart, Harry passed through the tiled hallway and briefly inspected some of the rooms. Just like the outside of the house, the inside was extraordinarily boring. It could have belonged to anyone. There seemed to be no one around. Cautiously, he peered around the rustic-looking kitchen and his experienced eye zoomed in on the pile of newspaper clippings that rested on the side. Rifling through them, he saw they all contained stories of Nikki. Her beautiful face stared up at him from the black and white pages. This _had _to be the place.

Suddenly, he heard a faint noise.

Alert as a basset hound, Harry whipped around the spot and caught sight of a partially concealed wooden door, shrouded by a colourful curtain, that must lead to a cellar of some kind. The perfect, _clichéd _place. His blood quickened as he moved towards the door and gently opened it with a creak.

"No! Please! Don't! Argh…" The protests were cut off by a thud followed by a cry.

Without even thinking of the consequences, upon hearing _that _voice, Harry practically ripped the door off its hinges and pelted down the stairs into the dingy basement. A single light bulb cast an artificial glow on the whole room, highlighting the two forms in the corner, both on the floor. One of them, the man, was attacking the woman. She was protesting, screaming, crying…Harry's heart and mind couldn't take it.

The man turned to look at him upon his noisy, dramatic arrival. Harry had a second to revel in his stunned expression before he punched him in the face. Having studied the human body for many years, he knew exactly where to hit and the bastard went out like a light, rolling onto the floor like a sack of potatoes. The satisfaction he experienced from smashing several of the bones in the man's face and the utter joy of finding Nikki was short-lived however, as he caught sight of the trembling wreck that was once his best friend.

His heart wrenched painfully when he saw her cowering away still, her eyes closed, unaware that she had been saved. The buttons of her blouse were partially undone and Harry realised with a sickening jolt, that he may have just stopped Nikki from being sexually assaulted. Ugly red lines peeked out from beneath the folds of the material and he grimaced in anger as he realised what she must have been subject to.

She was murmuring softly to herself, lost in her own world, escaping from reality.

"Nikki," he whispered ever so softly, "Nikki, its Harry." She didn't seem to hear him.

His anger grew when he saw she was chained to the radiator. He could see the painful blistering of her skin beneath the metal cuffs and he wanted to punch and kick the man on the floor until he was dead. However, he knew he couldn't. Not with Nikki here, like this. Instead, he searched through the unconscious man's pockets and uncovered a key. Tentatively, he padded towards her.

"Nikki," he repeated, catching her chained hands. She flinched at his touch and he felt his gut twist in sympathy and distress. Carefully, he freed her. "Nikki. Can you hear me? You're safe."

_Finally_. Finally, she opened her eyes and he almost lost himself in their beautiful dark brown depths. He never thought he would see them again. He never thought he would see her again alive. It was almost too much for him to bear. He had to touch her. To hold her...

"Harry?" she breathed, perspiration peppering her brow. "How are you….what did you?" She caught sight of the unconscious Isaac and gasped. Tears sprung to her eyes and she began to weep.

Immediately, Harry gathered her into a hug, wrapping his strong arms around her, clutching at her tiny, fragile frame and enveloping her in the tightest embrace he had ever given her. He didn't even want to let go. He was aware she had injuries but he just couldn't bring himself to release her or let up the pressure. She was here and she was alive and he was _never _letting her go again. Damp spread from her tears across his shirt as she sobbed into his chest, clutching at him like a life line. Her fingernails raked at his back, digging in like a baby monkey clinging onto its mother, refusing to let go. He ignored the pain; it was nothing compared to what she had been through. He felt a sudden hot, wetness on his own face and realised that he too was crying. Just the feel of her heart pumping strongly beneath her ribs spread warmth through him, unadulterated joy and indescribable relief coursed through his veins.

"I've got you, Nikki, I've got you," he whispered into her hair, kissing the top of her head and pressing his cheek onto her crown.

**Whey! :D Please, please review! I still have about three recovery chapters left in me :D You know you want the angst but also the fluff of recovery! Come on! Just press the button :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note - Thank you very much for the reviews! **

"Nikki." Harry's voice was low and concerned. He pulled away from her a little, catching the back of her neck and looking into her eyes. "I need to check the extent of your injuries, okay?"

She seemed reluctant to let go of the solid, familiarity of his body but eventually nodded mutely. Quietly, Harry performed a quick examination of her body. His deft fingers skimmed beneath her blouse and found the bloody welts which carved ugly lines into her otherwise perfect, porcelain skin. Instinctively, he let out a hiss of anger and disgust but cursed internally when Nikki flinched from the noise. He had to be more careful, especially when she was this fragile, this hurting. There were numerous finger shaped bruises on her arms from where she'd been pinned down and there were mild burns all down her back, undoubtedly from the fierce heat of the radiator. The burns on her wrists were the worst, thick and raw. She whimpered whenever his touch gently brushed them, tears springing to her eyes.

"Oh god…sorry, Nikki, sorry," he whispered, quickly, apologetically, leaning over and kissing her forehead, stroking her hair. His eyes were soft with guilt. "I'm nearly done."

On her head he found a large, partially healed wound and realised that this was probably where she'd been initially struck when she'd been kidnapped. His gut clenched furiously at the thought. However, he had to remind himself that he had her back. She was here and she was safe. It just remained to be seen how much she would be affected by her ordeal.

And finally he found the massively swollen ankle. It was so mottled and disfigured that you could hardly tell it was a limb anymore. Vivid purple bruising formed strange patterns on her skin. The colour was so bright and unnatural that it looked like a child had spilt violet paint on Nikki's leg, complimenting the shocking shade with dashes of fluorescent yellow and primrose pink. As soon as he touched it, Nikki let out a squeaking whimper and dug her fingernails into his bicep, halting him.

"Please…" she murmured, eyes creased shut.

"That's a pretty serious break, Nikki," Harry managed to choke out around the lump of emotion which had caught in his throat.

"I know," she whispered, "But it hurts so much. Could you just…"

"I'll leave it for now. You're going to need surgery though. Speaking of which, I should probably get you out of here."

Nikki nodded, obviously rather eager to leave the dank, dark basement that had been her prison for the last week and potentially her tomb. She was trembling quite a lot but she still went to stand up. Harry stopped her immediately.

"Whoa!" he yelped, catching her arm as it collapsed beneath her weight, supporting her, "There's no way you're walking on that. I'll carry you."

In any other circumstance, the often defiant, independent Nikki would have protested at his gallant, perhaps over-protective, behaviour; declaring it extravagant and unnecessary but she didn't seem to have the energy to do so this time. She meekly allowed him to gingerly, so not to aggravate her injuries, slide one arm beneath the crook of her slender knees and then snake the other behind her shoulder blades, before slowly raising her off the floor. She moaned a little but tucked her head into his broad chest and seemed to find comfort and relief in that. Harry did his best to quell the continuous shaking of her small frame, holding her tightly against him. However, she must still be in shock as his actions didn't have much affect.

When he had reached the top of the stairs, he suddenly became aware of sounds coming from the front of the house. The front door banged open, noisily, and footsteps could be heard tramping through the hallway. Harry nudged open the door that lead into the kitchen with his foot and waited for them to find him. Moments later several police officers burst into the room followed by DCI Tarrant and an ashen-faced Leo. As soon as their colleague caught sight of the two of them, Nikki curled up in Harry's arms, he stopped dead.

"Is she….?" he tailed off, his cheeks bone-white, referring to the quiet body in Harry's arms.

"She's alive, Leo," Harry replied, feeling the relief course through his veins like a tidal wave upon the reality of that statement. Leo obviously experienced the same rush of emotion as his face lost its tautness and regained some colour. He exhaled deeply, striding over to them.

Towards the back of the group were a couple of fluorescent paramedics. They followed Leo quickly, ready to remove Nikki from Harry's arms and onto a stretcher. However, she was having none of it. She had a vice-like grip around Harry's neck and she was not letting go for anything, like a desperate limpet clinging to a rock in raging sea of confusion.

"I think she's staying put," Leo commented, a little dryly, as he placed one hand on Harry's shoulder and the other on Nikki's blonde head. His dark blue eyes met the younger pathologist's and the two of them shared an indescribable moment of shared relief and joy. They had got her back. Against the odds they'd got her back.

"What happened, Dr. Cunningham?" DCI Tarrant intervened, urgently, "Where's Webster?"

"Down there." Harry jerked his head in the direction of the basement. "He's unconscious." Leo shot him a questioning look but his colleague didn't supply any more information than that. "He'll come round at some point." There was an icy coldness to Harry's voice that sent a shiver down his friend's spine.

"Okay, Harry, we'll deal with him. Why don't you take Nikki to the ambulance and get her to hospital? She looks like she needs it," Tarrant stated, waving him away from the crime scene that he was just itching to investigate. "Professor Dalton? Are you going to stay here or go with your colleagues?"

Leo looked torn. On the one hand, he obviously wanted to make sure that Nikki was okay but he knew that Harry could do a perfectly good job of that on his own and on the other hand, he wanted to ensure that the crime scene was properly investigated so that there was no way this guy would ever get out of prison once he was sent down. Leo wanted to personally make sure that the bastard got sentenced for life. In the end, he elected to stay and help Tarrant.

"You'll be all right won't you, Harry?" he asked, concernedly.

Harry offered him a weak smile. "We'll be fine, Leo. I promise. After all, I'm never letting her out of my sight again for as long as I live."

"In all honesty, Harry, I really don't doubt that. I'm thinking of pledging the same thing," Leo smiled back. "I'll see you soon."

* * *

Sitting quietly in a chair beside the metal hospital bed, Harry studiously read Nikki's chart, checking every detail to make sure she received the best care possible but also to make sure he knew exactly what she'd been through. It was perhaps a little selfish and a little morbid but he couldn't help feel that Nikki would probably never share with him exactly what occurred in that week down in the basement of a murderer so if he was to have any idea of what happened then he would have to see her chart. At each injury or ailment listed he felt his heart thump a bit faster both in anger and sympathy for her.

_Severe dehydration. _

_First degree burns covering 70 percent of back. Some second degree superficial thickness._

_Second degree - deep partial thickness - to both wrists._

_Scalp laceration. Minor skull fracture which caused minor cerebral contusion – monitor closely. _

_Deep lacerations to chest. _

_Trimalleolar fracture__ – surgery required. _

They were notes dashed in scrawling handwriting but they gave Harry a small insight into what Nikki had experienced – the pain she'd been subject to. It made his blood boil to see what that bastard had done to her. Occasionally, looking back, he wished he'd killed Isaac Webster there and then when he lay vulnerable and unconscious on the hard basement floor. He could have made it look like self-defense – after all, he knew exactly how. However, he never could have. No matter how much his temper flared and no matter how much he hated this man for what he put Nikki through, Harry knew he never would have forgiven himself _had _he actually gone through with his threat and killed him. The guilt would have weighed on his conscience forever. If he had done it Isaac would have won. He would have ruined their lives completely.

Still, he couldn't help but fantasize about smashing the dick's head into an unforgiving brick wall…

Suddenly Nikki shifted beneath her covers and let out a cry of fear and pain.

"No!"

"Nikki?" Harry was on his feet immediately, ready to do whatever she needed. However, he soon realised she wasn't even awake. Her eyes were scrunched tightly closed as she writhed and cried out, her face contorted in pain.

"Please don't….please…" she sobbed.

"Hey, hey, Nikki!" He dithered for a moment, not sure whether to touch her because that could make her worse. In the end, he couldn't help it; he couldn't stand to see her in pain or upset. "Shh…Nikki….shh…"

He gently pressed down on her shoulders, effectively holding her still so she wouldn't pull out her IV or dislodge her heart monitor, and spoke soft, comforting words to her, trying to wake her from the nightmare. Unfortunately, this forceful pressure on her body only seemed to increase her blind panic and she lashed out, catching Harry on the nose. He stumbled back, dazed, his vision reduced to a multitude of fizzing white stars. Blinking slowly, he managed to bring himself back into the room at which point he realised that Nikki had woken up and was staring at him in horror.

"Nikki," he said, hurrying forward, "Are you okay?"

"What do you mean am _I _okay? You're bleeding!" she replied, her brown eyes wide and round. "Did I do that to you?"

"Well, I think you took it upon yourself to knock a bit of sense into me," Harry joked, trying to make her feel better, whilst grabbing a tissue and quickly wiping away the thick red trail of blood that was oozing from his nose. "About time too probably."

"But…" Nikki still looked awfully guilty.

Harry grinned at her. "Oh Christ, Nikki! A little knock on the nose isn't going to kill me….well, unless you knock a bit of bone into my brain but that would just be very unfortunate. I'm much more concerned about you." His fingers grazed her arm, feeling the soft dusting of hairs there. His eyes caught hers, trapping her with the intensity of his gaze. "In fact, I wouldn't mind being hit in the face a million times just as long as you promise _never _to get kidnapped again."

She offered him a weak smile in return but it didn't quite reach her eyes. He realised she wasn't quite ready to joke about this yet. It was just unfortunate that his way of coping with traumatic events was through humour. However, he still didn't really know what Nikki had been through down in that cellar. He knew the physical pain she'd endured but he didn't know what mental pain and anguish she'd experienced. He didn't know what mind games that Webster had used on her. In fact, he knew that mental and emotional wounds were often the hardest to heal and left the biggest scars.

"I'll try and bear that in mind," she said, softly.

"Seriously, Nikki, I'm probably never going to let you go out again," Harry said, earnestly. Another smile twitched his lips. "And neither will Leo if he has anything to do with it."

Nikki paled, her expression tormented. "I never though I was going to leave that place." Her words hitched in her throat. "I thought I'd never see the sky again…or the sun…or you…or Leo. I thought….I was so _certain _I was going to die…"

"Oh god, Nikki, there I go, putting my bloody great foot in it _again_!" Harry sighed, moving closer to her. "Come here." He stood up and sat next to her on the bed, curling his arm around her. She leant against him.

"It's all right. You wouldn't be Harry if you didn't make jokes at the worst moments imaginable. That's one of the reasons why I love you so much."

Harry felt his heart beat a little faster at her words. He hoped she couldn't feel it but it would be pretty difficult not to notice considering she was so close. He chuckled, trying to distract her. "I'm glad that charms you rather than offends you."

"You always charm me, Harry," Nikki muttered into his shoulder but before he could pluck up the courage to question the statement, he realised she'd drifted off to sleep. The painkillers she was drugged up on sent her in and out of consciousness constantly. Therefore Harry had to sit beside her small, warm, wonderfully solid body and try not to feel too frustrated.

* * *

When Leo finally managed to leave the crime scene and make his way to the hospital, he couldn't help but feel a warm glow in his stomach. It was hard to describe but it definitely felt like all his worries had been lifted away; he felt lighter than he had in a long time. On his way, he had called Janet and told her the good news. She had cried with joy and promised to come join them at the hospital later that evening.

He supposed he was still in a slight state of disbelief. Of course it was hardly surprising considering they had all began to believe they would never see Nikki again. However unconsciously it was, he knew he'd been preparing himself for the worst.

After a short stop off at a florist to buy some flowers, Leo arrived at the hospital and found his way to Nikki's private room. He gently knocked on the door but when he received no reply, he decided to slip in anyway; he couldn't wait to see Nikki alive and fairly well any longer. The room was dim – one of the nurses having considerately turned off all the lights except the lamp on the side table – and it took Leo a moment to see his colleagues. When he did, however, his heart melted a little.

They sat side by side on the bed, fast asleep, Nikki tucked carefully under the covers, whilst Harry was above, propped up against the backboard. One muscular arm was wrapped around her shoulders and the other rested protectively on her stomach, keeping her surrounded by familiarity. Nikki's blonde head was tucked under Harry's stubble-shadowed chin. They fitted so perfectly together, Leo couldn't help but smile. He sincerely hoped that they didn't waste this second chance they'd been given.

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